


Light's Dawn

by Shadowblayze



Series: Dawn 'Verse [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Familial relationships among the Earth crew, No idea on pairings, Potter Luck, Set mostly in Azeroth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-07-24 09:42:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 86,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7503465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowblayze/pseuds/Shadowblayze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Medivh faced the nearly complete summoning circle and mulled over his options. He was not surprised when he felt the disturbance in the Twisting Nether just beyond his fingertips- not when he knew to look for it- but to meddle or not to meddle?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

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> A/N: 
> 
> I’m not a WoW lore fanatic and I get confused easily, so please don’t scream about any mistakes, though you are free to kindly point them out to me as I do strive for reasonable accuracy. = ) 
> 
> Bear in mind that Khadgar (Medivh’s former apprentice) is presumed dead- having been one of the heroes that were presumed lost when the Dark Portal had to be closed from Draenor’s side after Ner’zhul’s portal party and the subsequent shattering of the planet into the now-known zone of Outlands. Anduin Lothar fell at Blackrock Spire and 
> 
> Llane Wrynn was assassinated by Garona. Medivh himself is sort of a spirit, having been resurrected by his mother Aegwynn.
> 
> This means that the people who would have a personal, vested interest in Karazhan are not in the picture or are a spirit.
> 
> Prior to BC you could not access Karazhan, so this begins prior to it being taken over by the Eredar Prince Malchezaar. 
> 
> Nightbane has to be summoned, but he might pop up later. However, since the Tower has not been invaded yet, the NPCs are not present. The reasoning behind this is that they have not been disturbed from their eternal slumber by the dark magic of the Prince’s minions.
> 
> Also, Harry and co’s magic is great and powerful- but while it has some definite advantages, they are not going to spontaneously save Azeroth from any and all threats.
> 
> This story is born of my love of the game and my secret, fangirlish desire to see two of my favorite things combined.
> 
> Thanks to the reviewers who pointed out how turned around and backwards the first version of this was, but if the timeline is incorrect at this point it’s gonna stay that way. Not to be rude or anything, but I’ve poured hours into the timeline and storyline and this is a story I’m writing for fun.
> 
> If you can accept all of that, please enjoy~! (:  
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Harry strained helplessly against the invisible bonds that held him captive as Voldemort raised the Prophecy Orb in victory.

He had nearly managed to make it out of the Hall of Prophecy before he’d been overpowered.  Shelves and entire rows of formerly neatly labeled, primly stacked glass orbs were now strewn around the Hall in a grand mess while Voldemort and fifteen Death Eaters stood between Harry and the only exit.

“My faithful.”  The snake-like man with no visible nose and alarmingly pale skin nearly purred to the surrounding Death Eaters, his words strangely accented and coated in dark satisfaction.  “Tonight we have triumphed!”  The Death Eaters cheered and Voldemort paused for a moment to bask in their praises before he continued his victory speech.  “ _Tonight we have deprived Dumbledore of his greatest so-called advantage_!”

The surrounding Death Eaters cheered raucously and Voldemort allowed them a few moments of merriment before he held up a long-fingered, bizarrely pale hand in a silent command for them to be silent.

They complied instantly.

“And now, we decide what to do with young Harry Potter.”  The man’s lipless mouth contorted into a snarl as he glared at the futilely struggling teen.  “Yes, what to do with _you_.”

“What?”  Harry spat defiantly through the fear that clouded his mind.  “Not going to duel me again, _Tom_?”

Voldemort’s lips lightened in rage but before he could respond there were flashes of light and members of the Order of the Phoenix flooded into the room.

“ _Harry_!”  Sirius Black bellowed anxiously.  “Harry where are you?”

“I’m here, Siri!”  Harry yelled as loudly as he could, twisting and trying to find his Godfather amidst the chaos that had erupted from the Death Eaters clashing with the newly-arrived Order members.

Sirius had just undone whatever spell had been used to bind him when they were beset upon by the LeStrange brothers and Sirius’ cousin Bellatrix.  The wrongly incarcerated Black Heir and the last of the Potters fought side-by-side as they ducked and wove through the various rooms in the Department of Mysteries, eventually ending up in a room with a doorway with a tattered, moth eaten curtains that seemed to dance upon an ominous, mysterious wind.

Sirius had managed to put one of the brothers out of action a few rooms before, but the remaining brother and Bellatrix were proving to still be a formidable threat, and soon both Sirius and Harry were backed up the small dais and pinned down in front of the strange doorway.

Eventually Bellatrix hit Sirius with a strange spell that had caused the man to lose his footing, sending him hurtling back towards the strange doorway.  At the other end of the room Dumbledore, and several other Order members burst in and had looks of horror on their faces.

Time seemed to slow as the help came closer, but Harry _knew_ that they’d be too slow to reach Sirius in time.

Well, Harry certainly didn’t want to live in a world without his Godfather.  Arguably the only person who seemed to give a damn about Harry and thought that Harry should be able to live his life to the fullest despite the struggle with Voldemort and the stupid Prophecy.  He heard a familiar series _cracks_ just behind him, but he had already turned and leapt onto Sirius, tightening his arms around the man and bracing for what would come next.

Harry ignored the screams from behind them, focused entirely on his Godfather.

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞―≡―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―◊―――

Everything had started to change around Harry’s thirteenth birthday.

The Dursleys had been working him like a dog all summer, secure in the knowledge that he couldn’t use his ‘freakishness’ and wanting to make him suffer for the debacle with the Masons the previous summer.  However, because of the debacle with the Masons the previous summer they had kicked him out of the house on the day that the Newtons were scheduled to come to dinner.

“I don’t care where you go or what you do, boy!”  Vernon growled, his jowls quivering distractingly as he grabbed Harry by the arm and hurled him out the backdoor.  “But I don’t want you within a half mile of this house any time before lunch tomorrow! And you’d best not cause any trouble for me or your Aunt, or it’ll be into the cupboard with _you_ and into the trash with your _freaky_ trunk!”  Then the man grinned nastily, his crooked, yellowed teeth glinting in the early morning light.  “And if this meeting goes anything like last year’s, that owl of yours will pay the price for it!”

Harry glared at the man furiously but he’d been entirely unable to do anything. 

Utterly helpless for all the magic that bubbled feely through his blood. 

The padlocked cage that held his beautiful owl Hedwig had been taken out of his room by his Aunt Petunia earlier in the day when he’d been out painting the shed and he wasn’t sure where in the house they’d put her.

Harry knew, however, just as surely as he knew his own name that the Dursleys _would_ go as far as to hurt or kill his owl just to see him suffer.

“Yes, Uncle Vernon.”  Harry very nearly snarled at the man; anger and shame welling up inside his chest at the thought of being so _helpless_ against this vile man.

Had he not faced the visage of his parent’s murderer two years in a row?

And he was helpless against a single petty muggle?

Harry swallowed back against the shame and the anger and the bitterness as he straightened and readied himself to sleep in one of the nearby parks without so much as a blanket.

The man seemed to realize the torment he was inflicting because his lips twisted into a sadistically satisfied smile.  “ _Good_.  Now begone, boy.  No earlier than tomorrow’s lunch!”  Then the man turned around and slammed the backdoor of Number Four shut with a pleased _bang_.

Harry stormed off, slipping past the hedge and walking until he could calm down enough to not want to burst into tears at any given second.

It had been while he was sitting there, his back to a tree with his arms wrapped around his knees that he’d indulged in some teenage angst.  He thought about how much he hated the Dursleys, how angry he was with the Headmaster for making him come back here, how betrayed he felt by his friends for not writing to him this summer- conveniently ignoring that Hermione had been petrified most of the year and that Ron had rescued him last summer and faced spiders with him this year- and how much he hated knowing he had magic-strong magic, even- but being forced to obey worthless muggles like his relatives.

What was the point of training to use his amazing supernatural power when he wasn’t even sure he would live through the next few summers with his _blood relatives_?

A rustle in the leaves had caught his attention and he looked up to see wide, blue canine eyes staring intently at him. 

Harry- not really a fan of dogs after Ripper the Rotten, who was sue to show up the day after tomorrow- was been frightened of the big, shaggy black dog at first, but the dog had merely padded over to him.  Once the animal was close enough it rather comically flopped unceremoniously onto his legs, rolling on his back- Harry could see the fact that it was male at that point- and exposing his belly in a clear entreaty for belly rubs. 

Harry released an unexpected laugh at the silly picture the huge dog made- laying there with his belly exposed, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, and pathetically obvious ‘puppy dog’ eyes.  Amused and no longer afraid Harry reached forward and began to scratch the matted dark fur of the dog’s underbelly, laughing louder at the pleased whines and silly expressions that came from the canine.

Harry nodded off at some point.  He woke to find the dog gone- a gaunt, haunted man in his place- one with a crazy story of betrayal, _Animagi_ , and of a man who was painted with the same colors of his family reputation, regardless of his personal actions.

A wiser person would have questioned the fantastical story harder, maybe gone screaming in the other direction or insisted in telling a responsible adult such as the Headmaster. 

However, Harry had been willing to believe the man’s story- pending the reveal of Ron’s rat- as he knew what it was like to try and be different from the people who you were unfortunate enough to be related to.  How easy it was to fail the ‘everyone knows that boy is no good’ test that seemed to exist. 

Harry also knew what it was like to be locked up- only to be let out when he was deemed ‘useful’ or ‘to earn his keep’. 

Harry was intimately aware of what it was like to feel abandoned by your friends even when you’d done everything humanly possible to help them. 

More than that, Harry shared the man’s anger at the wizarding world for their sense of expectation and cowardice.  The ability to even talk of such things granting him a taste of freedom- of life beyond usefulness or pre-ordained expectations and quietly dying in excruciating increments.

(That Halloween night, ten years of suppression under the oppressive thumbs of the Dursleys, magic, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Stone, the _Dursleys_ , the Parselmouth, the Diary, the _Dursleys_ -)

Not all of his feelings were rational and fair,  he admitted to his horrified Godfather, but then again neither was life.

So, Harry had sat there in that clearing talking with his Godfather- Godfather!-  about his previous two years in Hogwarts. 

They both knew that without Ron’s rat in hand, they had no case to clear Sirius’ name. 

Sirius had told Harry that until that happened it was best to keep a low profile, no matter how much the man wished to whisk the boy away from Petunia.

He talked and raged and wept and when dawn broke, when the first rays of light began to lighten the dark navy sky, a bond had been formed between two souls that felt as if the world had forgotten them.

Wanting to put off returning to the Dursley home a bit longer, Harry had launched into a more detailed version of Second Year.

It had been as Harry had been speaking about his Second Year that he mentioned Dobby by name and the little elf had appeared in the clearing with them.

“Dobbys is being happy to serve Master Harry Potter Sirs!”  The colorfully garbed little guy had squawked indignantly at Harry’s rather horrified expression upon learning that he was Dobby’s new _Master_.  “Dobbys is being catching the nasty, bad rat mans for Master Harry Potter’s dogfather!”

―――ᴖᴗ―――

Dobby had acquired the Traitorous Rat a few weeks later.  Instead of returning the traitor to Sirius for a swift death the little elf had taken the thing to Diagon Alley and plopped the stunned, unable to transform traitor on the steps of the Daily Prophet office in all of his human form glory- the Dark Mark prominently displayed for the world to see.

Dobby also may or may not have created a spectacle to attract attention. 

Sirius and Harry would not appreciate Dobby’s true genius or level of absolute dedication until much later.

With the huge public spectacle Pettigrew’s discovery had caused, Sirius had been cleared before Hogwarts started. 

Both Harry and Sirius had been positively delighted to heap praises upon the little being’s head.

―――ᴖᴗ―――

Marge had visited, but Harry had been so distracted by the Sirius Situation and being able to use Dobby to ferry notes back and forth that he hadn’t really listened to anything she’d had to say.

―――ᴖᴗ―――

Third Year had seen Sirius and Harry growing more and more discontent with the Wizarding World.

Sirius had put a charm on Harry’s glasses that kept a _Legilimens_ from being able to read his mind without putting a significant amount of force being their probe.  The newly freed, currently hospitalized man had told Harry about the Mind Magics because of Snape, whom had been the reason that Sirius had looked up the Charm in the first place.  Sirius had said that Harry’s father, James Potter, had used it on his glasses back when they were in school, before he’d learned Occlumency, because James had _sworn_ that Snape could read his mind and that was why the Slytherin boy had managed to avoid some of James’ pranks.

Sirius had tried to send a few letters to Harry through the regular post, but Harry never received them. 

This had caused both of them to be furious at the Headmaster, despite the placating words the old man had given Sirius as an excuse as to why the letters had been redirected to him and why the Headmaster refused to key Sirius into the Mail Wards.

_“Harry needs to focus on his schoolwork, my dear boy.”  Dumbledore kindly, but firmly told Sirius when the man came to visit, as well as to apologize for his part in Sirius’ unlawful incarceration.  “You will be able to meet him in the summer, once he has recharged the Blood Wards.  Until then just focus on recovering.  I fear that Voldemort has not yet been truly vanquished and I will likely need to gather some old friends before too much longer.”_

Sirius and Harry had both been furious and hurt by the arrogant patronization. 

Did the old man not understand how infuriating and unwanted his meddling was?

Thus, yet another seed of discontent began to blossom into rebellion.

Unfortunately Pettigrew escaped Azkaban less than two months after he’d been sentenced there causing Fudge to post Dementors around the school grounds, which hadn’t endeared him to Harry at all.

Harry had not told his friends anything.  On the one hand he kind of hoped that they would ask him what was wrong but on the other he hoped that they would leave him alone and make his personal war a bit easier.

Harry had also found out about his Defense professor being a friend of his parents through Sirius. 

Professor Lupin looked at Harry a lot, as if he wanted to speak with him.  Yet even the few times that Harry lingered after class, and even asked a few probing questions that could have been used as conversation-starters the man hadn’t said anything.

Discontent, hurt, and more than a little miffed Harry had pretty much written Lupin off, despite Sirius’ attempts at making excuses for him.

After Sirius had completed his stint in Saint Mungos in April, he tried to become Harry’s Magical Guardian on the basis that he was Harry’s Godfather. 

However, Dumbledore refused to give up his position as Harry’s Magical Guardian, and had insisted that Harry was much safer and happier with the Dursleys.  He had no idea that Sirius and Harry had met, and that Harry knew that Sirius was his Godfather and rightful Guardian.  The Headmaster hadn’t even _spoken_ to Harry about things and the tidbit about Sirius’ relation to Harry had been conveniently left out of all of the Daily Prophet articles.

It made both Sirius and Harry furious enough that they decided that wizarding Britain and any country with an Extradition Treaty with them could go hang.

The plot to strike out on their own began to take shape and at least half of each Dobby-ferried letter turned to thoughtful planning.

True to his word to Sirius back in the fall, Dumbledore had sent Harry back to the Dursleys after his Third Year and hadn’t even mentioned Sirius as an alternative to the teen- at least not without Harry staying with the Dursleys for a month to ‘recharge the Blood Wards’ and therefore ‘allowing Sirius ample time to recover from Azkaban’. 

As Harry couldn’t exactly say, “I’ve talked to him!” without exposing a lot of information and cutting off the only routes he had available to talk to Sirius by; both Sirius and Harry had decided that they were beyond _done_.

In June Sirius and Harry decided that they were going to go underground after Harry sat his OWLs and they would return to Britain when they _bloody well felt like it_.

Which would most likely be _never_ or whatever came after that.

―――ᴖᴗ―――

Now that their plan had an actual start date, they began plotting logistics.

Sirius had found that his grandfather had left him the title of Lord Black before he had even gotten his trial, but with he and Harry’s new plan that became somewhat significant.

While Gringotts would loose their hold over the vaults over their dead- and likely many Ministry dead- bodies, the properties registered in any country with a British Ministry Extradition Treaty was fair game. Taking the Headmaster’s cryptic warnings- and Harry’s own experiences- into account Sirius also did not want Lucius Malfoy to get his greasy paws on the Black assets.

Therefore Sirius dug deep into his Slytherin heritage and put his rather cruel, creative mind to work and began plotting.  Doing so had revealed a delightful loophole that had given Sirius the Stewardship of the Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter, even if it was only accepted by Gringotts.

So Sirius could access the Potter properties and vaults, even though he could not take custody of Harry.  Dumbledore was granted a smidge of goodwill as it became apparent that the old man had not done anything unethical- and had, in fact, ensured things continued to operate smoothly.

Just a smidge, though, as the Headmaster was still keeping the two apart and the fact that all those horrid ‘Boy-Who-Lived’ books even _existed_.

When it came to places that they could hide, Sirius knew that the Black family had islands that were Warded to high heaven and back.  The downside was that the effort of opening them weakened them, which meant that Sirius and Harry had to be prepared to not be able to leave for several years once they were inside. 

That knowledge put a bit of a damper on their ‘world tour’ plans, but they figured that with as untamed the islands- there was a particular set in the southern Atlantic that Sirius knew only the Lord Black knew about, as he had only found about its existence once he had donned the Lord’s Ring as the Inheritance Ritual- were, they could still be plenty entertained.

Sirius still lamented the lack of lovely women or handsome men, though.

Harry laughed at his godfather’s outrageous pouting.

_“Another decade or so without companionship is a small price to pay to be able to take care of you and for the two of us to reclaim our lives.”  Sirius admitted at the end of one letter, worried about triggering any of Harry’s anxieties.  “Lack of adult companionship of the intimate nature is a small price to pay in order to see you happy, pup.”_

Then, of course, came the discussion about finances and Sirius’ rather…..creative solution.

_“The value of the Galleon fluctuates based on a lot of things.”  Sirius explained in one letter, his messy scrawl even sloppier due to his haste in writing it.  “But the International Council of Financial Matters- which hosts the Goblins of Gringotts, the Dwarves of Snowden, and the Gnomes of Winterthur, plus a bunch of others; I think there are fifteen in all- set the rates each year.  This past decade has seen the Galleon worth much more than in the past fifty years, but this year and last year the rates have decreased slightly.  What I’m going to do is convert all the galleons- or Knuts and Sickles- that we do not need into gold.  Well, mostly gold and silver along with whatever gems and such the Goblins decide to throw in._

_This will keep our money out of the hands of slimy bastards like Malfoy while also letting us to reenter whatever damn market we feel like after we decide to return to civilization.  If we keep everything in Galleons we will be bound to their current values.  It’s sort of a risk, but one I feel will be worth it.  While the Ministry cannot access vaults they can ask other countries to inform them if British currency has been exchanged, especially in large amounts.  Unmarked bullion, though, is free of any markers the Ministry could possibly track.  Not to mention that Galleons are only really worth much in the ICW countries, the other ones have their own money and don’t give a bloody hell about the market or the ICFM’s rulings.”_

It had taken some serious negotiating with the Goblins, but since the move would ultimately screw over wizardkind more than the Goblins- who were receiving a hefty cut of the total liquid assets as the ones to procure all the gold, gems, and metals being used in the exchange- they were persuaded to go along with things without an undue amount of fuss.

It certainly had not hurt their case that the more Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts that were removed from circulation- or from the sanctity of the vaults- the tighter Gringott’s grip on the economy grew as the scales tilted into their favor.

Dobby was glorious and exceedingly helpful during this time.  The eccentric little elf was cheerfully cleaning and organizing and keeping Sirius on task.

Sirius was going around to all the registered Black properties- and the ‘Lord Only’- ones in order to ensure that their departure was as comprehensive as humanly possible.

Of course, Sirius also disliked most of his family.  A sentiment that had not changed in the decade he spent listening to dear cousin Bella’s insane ramblings.

So Sirius and Dobby were taking everything that wasn’t charmed with a Permanent Sticking Charm- or, if he was feeling truly inspired, taking out entire sections of walls and leaving only the barest frameworks at the Black Properties- while Harry was stuck at the Dursley ‘recharging the Blood Wards’.

By the time Dumbledore came to collect Harry, Sirius had ‘officially’ set up shop in London.  Not at Grimmauld Place, but in Sirius’ Aunt Cassiopeia’s Kensington Town House.  

Harry and Sirius had made sure to be slightly awkward and distant from each other- even though Sirius had finally been able to ‘reveal’ the fact that he was Harry’s Godfather to Harry- in an effort so as not to arouse suspicion.

Once the two had been ‘reunited’ they had spent long nights bonding over the glass cages that people were knowingly- or unknowingly- snapping into place around them and how much they _hated_ that sensation.

Thus their plotting continued unhindered and Sirius snuck Harry out to help with the glorious ‘Robin Hood-ing’ of the Black properties.

―――ᴖᴗ―――

Fourth Year sucked even before it started.

The Death Eaters attacked at the World Cup- which Harry attended with the Weasleys, with the tickets Sirius had procured soon after his trial- and the Dark Mark had been cast near Harry, Hermione, and Ron.

Thankfully not by any of their wands, as Harry’s gift to them for their ‘birthdays’ that year had been wand holsters.

Dobby had nabbed Winky- after that bastard Crouch _who had sent Sirius to Azkaban without a trial-_   blamed her for casting the Dark Mark, and with another elf attached to Harry’s magic, the number of House Elves in the Black-Potter Conspiracy rose to two. 

(Dobby and Winky quietly collected other elves as they ran around the world collecting things for the Great Escape.  This little conspiracy made possible by Harry’s rather exasperated- _“Do whatever makes you happy and think is best for you guys.  I don’t want you getting hurt or withering away from not having a Master, even though I wish you could just be free.”_ \- but Harry and Sirius would not realize the full implications of telling Dobby that for a good while yet.)

After Harry’s name had popped out of the wretched Goblet, there had been the row with Ron which had pretty much shattered the two boys’ friendship.  Hermione stood with Harry, but still did not truly believe that he hadn’t actually _wanted_ to compete.

_“I just- I know how you can get.  Especially if someone’s encouraging you.  I-I heard you talking to the twins about the ‘Marauders’ and everything and I just-”  Hermione’s voice trailed off for a moment as she anxiously wrung her hands in front of her and bit her lip nervously.  “I don’t think you entered your name, per se, but I think you wanted to prove your worth as something other than the Boy-Who-Lived.”_

_Harry stared at her incredulously as Ron stomped off to the boy’s dorm in the background.  “Hermione.”  He said thickly, his voice caught somewhere in his throat as he watched his best friend worry the skin on her bottom lip.  “Hermione- I don’t wat to do this.  I don’t want any of this.  I just want some bloody peace.”_

_“Oh, Harry.”  Hermione sighed sadly before she closed her eyes and forced back tears.  “Ok.  So we’ll need to compile a list of spells based on the Tournaments of the past, but you’ll have to…..”_

Truthfully, Halloween spelled the last of Harry’s secret resistance to leaving Hogwarts- his home, where he met his friends- behind.

_“It’s not that I don’t love them_.”  _Harry wrote in his tear-stained letter to Sirius on Halloween night._   “ _It’s that they don’t seem to take what I say as something to be believed, just because I said it.  I haven’t even done anything ‘attention seeking’ since the stupid Basilisk!  Even with you and my dad and Remus being pranksters, I should be given the benefit of the doubt!  I’m supposed to be their friend, dammit!  They’re supposed to know me better than this!”_

At least the fallout from the announcement had cemented Remus as Sirius’ friend- and the werewolf’s subsequent inclusion into the ‘Plan To Get The Bloody Hell Out of Magical Britain’.

Up until Remus had stood with Sirius even with all the abuse being hurled at him in the papers- ‘unstable’, ‘prone to wild, rash decisions’, ‘unfit to be a Lord’, ‘most likely put young Potter up to it as a so-called prank’, ‘encourages the little attention-seeker’- Harry had been adamant about not including the former Defense Professor, despite Sirius’ assurances.  Even after the time Remus had spent with Harry and Sirius in those few weeks between the Dursleys and the Cup had not been enough for Harry to forgive the man for not speaking to him about his family or Sirius during all of Third Year. 

Though, to be fair, Harry _had_ forgiven the man for not visiting him at the Dursleys fairly quickly once things had been explained.  Like how the Blood Wards had a function to keep out all ‘Dark Creatures’ such as werewolves- mostly because of Fenrir Greyback and his proclivity for children and the worry that one of Voldemort’s unmarked weres would slip through any loopholes made for Remus.

_“I knew I wouldn’t be able to visit you at all.”  Remus said with a pained smile.  “But I thought it would be worth it for you to not have to- well, for you to not share my fate.”_

While they respected that there was nothing the Headmaster could do to free Harry from the Tournament, they were very disappointed that _once again_ the Headmaster’s protections had failed Harry.

Weren’t the Blood Wards supposed to be super powerful and keep Harry safe from those wishing him harm?  How did entering him into a Tournament _with the intent for him to die_ not make the cut?

_“I’m just….exhausted.”  Harry wrote to his Godfather and Remus at the end of the first week of November.  “I’ve been through this love-hate-shun-apologize cycle too many times the past few years and I’m tired.  I just want out.  I can’t do this anymore.  I know it’s weak….but I just can’t.”_

For all the studying he and Hermione did in the Library- and Ron’s apology after the First Task- Harry found himself mostly isolated during Fourth Year. 

A ghost without a book or spell or mutual enemy to make him suddenly necessary.

All Fouth Year really taught him was that sometimes the people who claim to love him- and very well might- could make him feel worthless, even if that was not necessarily their intent.

―――ᴖᴗ―――

Harry had managed to get Cedric with a silently-cast Body Bind- quickly firing off a flashy spell usually used in pranks that Sirius had taught him to hide it from Pettigrew and Voldemort- thus saving the older boy’s life and ultimately giving Harry a back-up witness to Voldemort’s resurrection.

With of Voldemort’s resurrection, Sirius and Harry were gently talked into staying long enough to see things through by Remus.

The werewolf had patiently reminded them that they were both Gryffindors and they would never be free and happy like they wanted to be unless they at least made an _honest effort_ to end the fiend.

Harry actually _wept_ when the decision to stay was made, but even he admitted that Remus was correct.

Sirius- having been an Auror in the Blood War and remembering how easily Voldemort could get into Azkaban- negotiated with the Goblins once again and managed to get into the vaults of several convicted Death Eaters by claiming Right of Conquest, Blood Precedence, or Head of House. 

The Goblins were fine with things as long as could prove a Sirius legitimate claim.  

It certainly did not harm his case that Sirius had returned many Nation-forged ‘stolen’ goods as he went through and pillaged properties and vaults.

The truly Dark Artifacts were separated out and isolated by the ever eager elves- a wise and thoughtful decision for all parties involved.

Well, except for Voldemort, of course.

―――ᴖᴗ―――

Despite Sirius opening up his childhood home- Grimmauld Place- to be a meeting place for the Headmaster’s Order of the Phoenix, Harry spent all but two weeks of that summer with the Dursleys.

Harry and Sirius figured it would have been the _entire_ summer had those Dementors not accosted Harry and Dudley.

They _really_ did not understand what they had ever done to make Headmaster Dumbledore hate them so much.  It _hurt_ and _stung_ and _burned_ that the man they respected so much at certain points in their lives seemed to be so dismissive of their right to be somewhat happy and unrestricted.

As if their free will was secondary to some sort of master plan that they had no say in, let alone could possibly add input to or approve of.

At night, when everyone was asleep, they plotted.  Usually joined by Remus whenever possible, and both Sirius and Harry could admit that Remus’ academic sort of outlook greatly enhanced certain points of their plot.

Like magical tents, having more than one of certain things, entertainment items, and other miscellaneous things that had slipped under their radar.

Harry’s kindness to Kreacher- he reminded Harry of a twisted, broken Dobby, really- and some searching questions about Sirius’ brother while trying to avoid being part of the ‘cleaning crew’, had resulted in Sirius performing a spot of Fiendfyre on the battered locket that Kreacher had been tasked to destroy. 

Kreacher’s excitement and subsequent devotion over the thing being destroyed brought the number of House Elves- officially- in the Black-Potter Conspiracy to _three_.

―――ᴖᴗ―――

Fifth Year Harry had had to deal with Umbridge the Evil Ministry Toad and Snape the Terrible.

Umbridge had been adamant about Harry- and Cedric- shutting up about Voldemort being back, and Snape was supposed to be teaching Harry Occlumency.

Sirius’ instructions via the House Elf Mail Delivery Service had been what had allowed Harry to keep his memories of everything Sirius-related a secret.  However, keeping Snape out entirely simply was not possible for Harry’s meager skills, and the man took great pleasure in gloating about Harry’s ‘ _ineptitude’_ in the Mind Magics.

Hermione had wanted Harry to teach a Defense Against the Dark Arts supplement class, as the Daily Prophet had reported about him using a fully corporeal Patronus- which had necessitated some quick thinking to explain, as he had never managed it Third Year and had, in fact, gotten tips from Remus as the men feared the Dementors being used by Voldemort- but Harry had used the excuse of Umbridge and taking Remedial Potions to side-step the suggestion

During his wanderings- no point in tempting fate, after all- around the castle he had found the Room of Lost Things.  Well, Dobby had mentioned it at some point and Harry finally stumbled over the tapestry and remembered it. Once inside the ‘room of Lost Things’ he found an ugly old tiara that pulled at his wand during a _Hominem Revelio Charm_ \- it is not paranoia if they really are out to get you, after all- and had it shipped off to Sirius via Dobby. 

(It wouldn’t be until _much_ later that Harry would learn that Dobby had been having the Room cleaned by the other elves of the Conspiracy.  The tiara had felt ‘wrong’ to the Elves, so they had left it for ‘Master Harry’ to find.)

―――ᴖᴗ―――

Neville had emerged as an unexpected friend during the first term of that year, which had cheered Harry up considerably as he was very lonely without anyone his age to talk to.  The boy’s shy, but steady presence centered Harry and the young Potter appreciated that more than Neville probably knew.

Eventually Neville confided that part of the reason that he and his Gran had believed Harry and Cedric about Voldemort was because it had been shortly after the incident that Neville’s parents had passed on.

“They had been in the Janus Thickney Ward for long-term spell damage for as long as I can remember.”  Neville had told Harry one night, when both boys had been tucked away in the Room of Requirement with hot cocoa.  “But they were always in good health in body, it was just their-“  The teen smiled a bitter, raw little smile and clutched his drink a bit more firmly before continuing.  “-their minds that came and went.  Some days Mum would sort of recognize me, you know?  She’d smile at me really brightly and give me gum wrappers that she had saved.” 

A few tears had dripped into the boy’s trembling drink, but Harry had remained silent, knowing better than most the need to just _speak freely_ and _be listened to_ every once in a while. 

“I saved them all at home.  They upset Gran terribly, but I had Topsy charm them and I’d line the troughs that I planted begonias- Mum’s favorite flower, according to everyone- with them and talk to them sometimes when I was feeling really alone.”  Neville abruptly shook his head and he straightened up a bit before continuing.  “But in July they just died one night in their sleep.  Massive organ failure, the Healers said.  But Gran and I think that the Death Eaters got them.”

Neville had levelled a serious stare at Harry.  “Do you think it’s wrong of me to just want it all to end?  To want to go somewhere new and start over.”  He waved his hand towards the general direction of Hogwarts.  “I’m just tired of losing everything while it seems that the majority of our world is content to _do nothing_ and either pray for a miracle or set the blame on someone else’s shoulders.  Like how they blame Sirius Black for everything right now.”  Neville’s lips twisted into a painfully ironic grin.  “Bet that sounds a bit hypocritical of me, huh?”

“No.”  Harry said quietly.  “I know _exactly_ how you feel.”

―――ᴖᴗ―――

Shortly after that night, Harry had a strangely vivid dream about Ron’s dad being attacked by a snake, and he went to McGonagall about it as soon as he woke up.   The stern Professor immediately ushered him to the Headmaster, and the information ended up saving Arthur’s life. 

The searching looks he got from Hermione and the other Weasley kids afterwards had nearly made him regret doing so- and hadn’t that thought made him sick? 

―――ᴖᴗ―――

After the nearly-fatal attack on Arthur Weasley and the subsequent breakouts from Azkaban, the Ministry had had to admit that _something_ was happening.

Unfortunately since the parents of muggleborns were dying in ‘explainable accidents’, the supporters of Voldemort were keeping the actual the resistance the Ministry posed to Voldemort to a minimum.

Unfortunately one of the people’s parents who were attacked were Hermione Granger’s parents, which had sent the newly-orphaned girl running to Harry as Ron could not truly offer her any comfort. 

The red-head had tried, honestly, but even with Arthur Weasley’s near-miss, the concept of being truly _alone_ had not been something that the other could truly wrap his head around.  He had his mum and six siblings- five of whom were older than him- so dealing with estates, settling debts, and being set adrift in a world that suddenly seemed _too big_ and _terrifyingly vast_ was not something he could truly comprehend. 

The friendship between Harry and Hermione was not anything like it had been, but Harry would not wish being an orphan on anyone, least of all someone who had once been one of his closest friends.

―――ᴖᴗ―――

So, when Harry was attacked by the vision of Sirius being tortured by Voldemort in the bowels of the Ministry of Magic- the vision had been _kind_ enough to allow enough geographic tidbits through for him know that- during his History of Magic OWL he grit his teeth and finished the test. 

Then he went to his dorm and called Sirius over the mirror, only to receive no response.

After an hour of repeated tries and no response, he decided to call Dobby- only Dobby, armed with a note, was unable to find Sirius.

Harry then ordered the little elf to keep trying, but had slipped on his Cloak and taken the Honeyduke’s Passageway to Hogsmeade. 

Once there he Floo’ed to the Leaky Caldron before slipping out into nonmagical London and made his way to the Visitor’s Entrance of the Ministry of Magic.  Once there he got lucky and followed behind someone else to get inside.

Harry spent the next few hours searching for anything that looked familiar to his vision from earlier.

Eventually he made it down to the Department of Mysteries, and after some trial-and-error had found the Hall of Prophecy. 

Naturally his Godfather had not been there, but Tom’s Death Eaters were. 

Harry nearly made it to the door- the stupid Prophecy in hand- when Voldemort had shown up, causing Harry had hit his knees as unadulterated agony tore through his head due to the Dark Lord’s proximity to him.

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞―≡―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―◊―――

Contrary to what the Wizarding World thought, the Veil of Death was simply an incomplete doorway to the Twisting Nether.  Not a gateway into the realm of Death itself.  The doorway itself a relic left by an ancient black witch who delved far enough into the Black Arts to hear the sinister whispers and honeyed promises of a Void Lord.

Incomplete because the doorway only worked one way, but that was a very fortunate flaw. 

Fortunate for the Earth, anyways, as it prevented the denizens of the Twisting Nether from escaping through the doorway and finding themselves on Earth as a completed doorway would have allowed.  The Void Lord had intended to burst through the doorway and glut himself on the unique magic of Earth, only for the witch to fall before the doorway had been completed.  Unfortunately- fortunately for Earth, however- the doorway’s connection to Earth was far too faint for the Void Lord to pinpoint the planet through the vastness of the Great Dark, even with it being directly connected to the Twisting Nether.  The connection was simply too feeble and was therefore lost in the chaotic flux of energy that reigned in the Twisting Nether.

Usually a person- even one with inherent magic- could not survive long in the Nether.  Instead their bodies broke down and their life essences either dispersed into the ever-twisting flow of energy or they became a Void Spirit, cursed to never know rest for as long as their souls were stuck in the endless in-between.

Well, that is simplest of explanations, anyways.

However, for Harry and Sirius- plus their passengers- they had been joined by House Elves.  Little creatures who were made more of magic than flesh, and the bonds that existed between the two male humans and these beings caused a departure from the norm.

―――ᴖᴗ―――

On Azeroth, a hooded and cloaked ethereal man stared at the Dark Portal with his eyes narrowed in fierce concentration.

Medivh had been satisfied with his atonement. 

The invasion had been repelled by the united forces of the Alliance and the Horde.  Orgrimmar was being built near Theramore- by Thrall and Jaina, respectively- and Medivh had returned the Book of Medivh to Karazhan, the last act he planned to do before he took his place among the legends of the past.

Medivh had been unexpectedly restless and nostalgic as he walked through the empty halls of his old home.  Perhaps that was why he had paid attention to the prophetic visions he’d been assaulted with.

In the visions he had witnessed his home- the place where he had fallen in love with Garona, where he had trained Khadgar, where he had spent so many days laughing and studying with Anduin and Llane- being overtaken by dark forces. 

It had grieved and angered him to see Karazhan’s halls so defiled, even when the heroes had come to liberate her it had been far too late to preserve her glory, her magnificence.

Then he’d had another set of visions.  Visions of a boy and man drifting through the Twisting Nether and of them being able to prevent the fall of his home.  There were others, but the boy and the man were the focal point, the catalysts of change.

The flashes of potential had been brief and disjointed, but they were enough.

Medivh knew of the coming storm, of the terrible threat the Lich King would present to Azeroth in time.  He was wise enough to know that these two would not turn the tide on their own, but also that they held potential to herald change and present hope to the hopeless.  Karazhan’s altered destiny could only be a boon to Azeroth in long run- so perhaps they were merely a representation of hope.

And sometimes hope was more powerful than any spell.  Hope encouraged the Light and enabled great things.

Hope was what had allowed him to attempt to thwart Sargeras for so long, even though it was Khadgar and Lothar who had been forced to finish that fight.  Hope had been why his mother, Aegwynn, had resurrected him, allowing to exist in this form and atone for the damage Sargeras had wrought while the Titan’ spirit had possessed him in life.

Medivh, the Last Guardian of Tirisfal, reappeared in Karazhan’s Entry Hall and reached a weathered hand towards the specifically fabricated summoning circle as made his decision.

Medivh smiled as he pulled the group through and laid them gently on the blue stone in Karazhan’s entryway.

_‘Yes_.’  He thought decisively as he Soothed them, in preparation to allow them a mental trip through Azeroth’s history in order to acclimate their minds to their new world.  ‘ _When the time comes, they will bring hope bright and brilliant as the sun at dawn, and that is enough reason to bring them here_.’

(The shard of Voldemort stuck inside Harry’s head never stood a chance against the fury of a man who knew what it felt like to be possessed by a being intent on destruction and chaos.  It was but a moment’s work for the ethereal Medivh to separate the leech from the teen and banish it into oblivion.)

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞―≡―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―◊―――


	2. Settling In

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞―≡―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―◊―――

―――ᴖᴗ―――

_Darkness.  Complete and utter darkness save for the light behind him._

_Secure in the knowledge that Sirius’ arm was around his shoulder Harry turned towards the light._

_A Titan- for that was the only way to describe the colossal, celestial being whose very skin seemed to be made of metal that shone like the sun on a summer’s day- smiled, an odd expression that somehow suited him._

_“Hello, young ones.”  The voice that rumbled through Harry’s very being was power and terrible.  The sound of it- somehow melodious, even though it was comprised of power, metal, and will- inspired primal fear even as it stirred adoring awe.  The two intense emotions fiercely battling for dominance within Harry’s breast._

_“Fear not.”  The being soothed kindly, and it was only then that Harry noticed Remus, Neville, and Hermione; Harry could not see much else beyond  them, but he did see a House Elf-esque hand near Remus’ knee._

_Then the being continued to speak and Harry’s attention turned back to the colossal being before them._

_“I admit that I have imposed upon you and for that I apologize.  However my brothers and sisters and I have longed to pass on the story of our family, only we have been unable to do so until now.  Your unique circumstances have allowed us this brief moment in which to act and we have seized it.”  The being seemed to grow unhappy, though the light that emanated from him did not diminish.  “We charge you with the safekeeping of this knowledge until such a time comes to pass for it to be put to good use.”  Several other beings came into existence just behind the original one, their power nearly suffocating in its intensity._

_“Observe.”  A new voice thundered, the dispassionate tone nearly maddening.  “And learn.”_

_“We have read your hearts and decided.”  A woman’s voice, one that was slightly sweeter yet no less powerful added.  “Learn from this and reflect, young ones, for this burden is not one we give you lightly.  For it is with you that we rest our renewed hopes.”_

_Harry had questions- so damn many- but his lips refused to cooperate._

_The awakening of the All-Father, Aman’Thul the High Father, the first of the fully matured world souls and of his aching loneliness.  His desire to seek out others like himself and his journey into the Great Dark._

_Sargeras the Champion.  Khaz’goroth the Shaper and Forger of Worlds.  Eonar the Life-Binder.  Norgannon the Dreamweaver.  Golganneth the Thunderer.  Aggramar the Avenger._

_Journeying through the unending vastness of the Great Dark and finding worlds that hosted slumbering, developing world souls.  Defeating the any previous tyrants of those worlds and bringing order to them.   Shaping life forms for eons and then moving on once the world was able to take care of itself._

_Sargeras’ place as the Champion of the Pantheon.  Of Sargeras’ steadfast dedication to defeating all manner of demons and imprisoning them within the chaotic Twisting Nether- the barrier world between the Light and the Void._

_Countless worlds ordered across the eons; light and light and warmth left in the wake of the Titan’s steps._

_And then-_

_-of Sargeras- the High Father’s brother and confidant- coming across a world that had been so infected by the dark energies of the Void that the fledgling world-soul had become corrupted as well._

_Sargeras’ discovery of the existence of Void Lords- terrible beings made of mountains of corrupted dark energies that grew like cancers as they glutted themselves on all manner of matter and energies- who created the cruel, merciless Old Gods to attack worlds in the hopes of corrupting an unborn world soul and gaining its power._

_Sargeras’ rage- so great and terrible upon discovering the reasons for such a despicable act- that he clove the world in two, killing the defilers and the corrupted, fledgling world soul as well._

_The fight among the titans upon Sargeras’ return with the grim news.  The condemnation of the others for Sargeras’ actions._

_Sargeras’ departure._

_Aggramar, Sargeras’ former Lieutenant and successor, finding Azeroth and discovering the Black Empire comprised of four Old Gods.  Aggramar’s utter horror at discovering that the slumbering world soul was the most powerful he had ever felt- even greater than the High Father’s power, and it was still developing!_

_Informing the others of the Pantheon that Sargeras had spoken the truth.  Persuading the others- with Eonar’s assistance- to interfere before it was too late to save the immensely powerful- yet still young and slumbering- world soul._

_Creating the titan-forged servants to combat the Old Gods and Elemental Lords._

_Arriving on Azeroth.  The striking down Y’Shaarj and consequently discovering that eradicating the Old Gods entirely would also kill the fledgling world soul of Azeroth._

_Imprisoning the Old Gods- Y’Shaarj’s heart, C’Thun, Yogg-Saron, and N’Zoth-  deep below the surface of the world.  Banishing the chaotic Elemental Lords- Neptulon the Tidehunter, Therazane the Stonemother, Al’Akir the Windlord, and Ragnaros the Firelord- into the abyssal plane, where they could fight against each other for all eternity without disturbing Azeroth._

_The painstaking shaping of the perfect continent of Kalimdor- the ‘land of eternal starlight’- and the creation of the lake that would come to be known as the Well of Eternity._

_The assigning of the Keepers, great beings of stone and metal charged with the watch of certain zones or domains- such as Freya of the Wilds._

_Appointing the five strongest of the majestic native dragons as the Dragon Aspects as the watchers of Kalimdor; lest any force threaten the tranquil continent._

_Departing Azeroth after placing their usual fail safes and protective measures.  Failsafes such as the device that would summon the Constellar Algalon in the event of excessive corruption, so he could then either eradicate the corruption or inform the Pantheon._

_Aggramar discovering Sargeras and Sargeras’ conclusion that eradicating all life in the universe was far kinder than allowing such life to fall into the twisted, cruel hands of the merciless Void Lord._

_Attempting to reason with Sargeras- even informing him of the young world soul of Azeroth, one who might be able to destroy the Void Lords in time, but to no avail._

_Meeting Sargeras and his Burning Legion near the world of Nihilam.  Of Aggramar approaching the fel-corrupted titan unarmed as he attempted to reason with his former comrade only for Sargeras to cleave him in two._

_The rest of the Pantheon attacking; outraged at Sargeras’ actions, only to be slain as well._

_The physical forms of titans were lost, but thanks to a last-second act by Norgannon their spirits were able to make their way through the Great Dark and back to Azeroth.  They slammed into the Watchers, who were confused by the fragmented memories and sudden influx of power and called out to the Pantheon, only to receive no reply.  Eventually, Ra the Highkeeper of the South realized that the energy was that of the Pantheon themselves.   Heartbroken, the Keeper took the remains of the High Father and sealed them deep within a vault._

_“Guard this knowledge and use it for the good of your new home, young ones.  As Azeroth embraces you, so should you embrace her.  Protect her as best as you can and remember that no power is absolute.”  The woman smiled gently at the gathered before she raised her staff and brought it down witch a resounding crash._

_Harry’s heart hurt terribly, for all that his eyes were dry- could he even cry in this place?- but there was no time for questions as the beings burst into brilliant shards of light before they, and the darkness disappeared._

―――ᴖᴗ―――

Harry blinked slowly as he sluggishly made his way towards consciousness.  He contracted his brows together as he realized that he still felt strangely, almost artificially calm.

“What?”  He rasped out weakly, blinking his eyes rapidly in an effort to clear his vision before the memory of Sirius and the doorway slammed into him.

And the strange dream that had followed that felt especially vivid.

“Ah, good.  You’re awake.”  An aged, wizened voice said from the side.  It thrummed with power but after hearing the titan’s voices it was rather….underwhelming.

Harry thought it was unfair that it took him so much effort to turn his head, but he felt a surge of relief at the sight of Sirius, whose chest was rising and falling rhythmically, as well as the peaceful forms of Dobby, Winky, and Kreacher.

He was not entirely unprepared for the others that were also there with them, but still confused.

From the side, Sirius groaned and began to rouse as well and once he managed to turn his head he had much the same reaction that Harry.

“Bloody hell.”  The man muttered peevishly, dumbstruck and more than a little confused.  “What the balls did I bloody drink?”

“I am unsure.”  The man, who seemed to be older than Sirius but felt weirdly ageless and seemed more like a spirit or projection than a flesh-and-blood person, replied with a small amount humor.  Humor which only seemed to deepen at Sirius’ dumbfounded face and gobsmacked expression.  “Now that the both of you are awake, I shall begin the explanations.  I will start by introducing myself.  I am Medivh, the Last Guardian of Tirisfal, and you are currently within the halls of the Tower of Karazhan.”

“What?”  Sirius asked rather plaintively.  Harry was relieved to see that Sirius and the others seemed to be under the same sort of artificial calm that he felt.  At least it wasn’t just him. 

_For once_.

“Hm.”  The man said pensively, tapping at his chin in thought.  “How do I put this delicately?”

“Just be honest.”  Harry muttered mutinously.  “We’ve had about enough of ‘delicate’.  Give it to us straight, old man.”

This only seemed to amuse the man more.  “Very well then.  You are on the world of Azeroth.  I know not from whence you came, but I do know that you fell through an incomplete doorway to the Twisting Nether and your bodies would have dissolved into the stream, releasing your souls to the Beyond had I not pulled you from it when I did.”

“Say what?”  Sirius said incredulously, attempting- and failing- to get his limbs to cooperate and allow him to move into a sitting position.

Harry blinked owlishly and felt the artificial calm he was feeling grab the emotions of incredulity and disbelief before they could fully process.

It was a very weird, nearly disturbing feeling.

“Hm.  Well, I suppose we should do this the easy way, then.”  The man muttered as the House Elves and other unwitting travelers began to stir.

Harry was thrilled to see Hedwig’s white wing poke up from beside Dobby just before he’d fallen asleep from the spell the man cast with his staff.

A real, live, honest-to-goodness _staff_.

―――ᴖᴗ―――

_Harry knew he was dreaming- it felt nearly like being in a Pensive this time- but he knew that what he was seeing now was the history of the world that they were supposedly on- only from a person’s knowledge instead of the titan’s.  The images that swirled around him carried no sound but it was almost as if the information was gently impressed upon his mind._

_The development of the races of Azeroth.  Sargeras’ Legion entering.  The shattering of Kalimdor- though one of the continents was re-named Kalimdor._

_More invasions- the great tree Nordrassil burning._

_Strife, conflict.  Chaos._

_Sargeras’ second attempt through possessing the Guardian of Tirisfal._

_Yet more strife and conflict._

_From there the images twisted and danced nearly too quickly to be made out.  Information seeped into his mind even as the images blurred, and somehow Harry simply knew._

_Harry was incredibly grateful that his artificial calm seemed to be helping him absorb the information, otherwise he would have been lost long before any of the undead stuff started happening!_

―――ᴖᴗ―――

Harry groaned as he came back to himself, still feeling that artificial calm anchoring him, but able to muster up just enough energy to sit up and actually look around.

While he had seen the Tower of Karazhan in his second nap- he really wasn’t sure what to call it, to be honest- what he saw around him _now_ was vastly different.

Intricately fitted stones that fairly sang with energy surrounded him on all sides, but the colorful banners that once were displayed on the walls had long since fallen and were scattered about in various states of disrepair.  The rugs that once had been made of lush furs were now tattered and molded.  There were a few sconces that crackled with light along the walls, but most of them were dark, casting eerie shadows on the walls.  Cobwebs and dust were layered all around him as well, though he was thankful that none of the huge, Acromantula-themed spiders that he’d seen in his nap seemed to be present.

He was, unfortunately, already aware of the fact that monstrous spiders existed on Azeroth.

Sirius groaned from beside him as the other apparently began to awake from his own ‘nap’ and Harry looked at the elderly- ish?- man who was still watching the two with a sparkle of amusement in his eyes.  As Sirius mustered himself up into a sitting situation the three House Elves also began to awaken.

“So what now?”  Harry asked the patiently waiting elderly man.

“That-”  The man said while leaning casually on his staff.  “- is entirely up to you.”  He held up a hand to forestall the protests he could see forming on their lips.  “I pulled you from the Twisting Nether to the Tower of Karazhan since her protections still hold, and showed you the history of Azeroth up until this point.  That is as far as my interference will extend.  The Soothe magic I placed on you will wear off soon, but whether you take the opportunity I have afforded you and protect this sacred Tower from those who would seek to use her is entirely up to you.”

With that said the man straightened and gave them a faint smile.  “Good luck, young ones.”  A flash of bright lights-   _‘Arcane energy?’_ Harry wondered somewhat dumbly- and the man was gone, leaving them entirely on their own.

Without the elder man’s presence the musty smell of stale air seemed to thicken.  The area they were in seemed to darken as well.  For a moment Harry and his companions were profoundly aware of the fact that they were in an unknown castle on an alien world all alone, save for each other. 

This world was entirely different from their own!  It even had _zombies_!

Harry felt a sudden rush of affection for the barmy old codger and his ‘soothe magic’.  As the memories of what had happened prior to diving into the chaotic mess that the man had called the ‘Twisting Nether’ hadn’t exactly been calm or soothing to Harry’s tattered nerves.

Let alone dream number one.

“Well.”  Sirius drawled in a slightly scratchy voice.  “Let’s find a room we can fortify so we can talk without getting attacked.  I don’t fancy being gobbled up by a weird-looking dragon-thing because I wasn’t careful.”

“Agreed.”  Harry told his Godfather, pushing himself to his feet and smiling at the House Elves.  “Alright there, Dobby, Winky, and Kreacher?”  There was a squawk as Hedwig roused and flew over to Harry with wobbly wings.  “And you as well, Hedwig.  I thought you were still at Hogwarts?  And the rest of you….?”  His voice trailed off leadingly.

The others blinked rather owlishly but slowly climbed to their feet.

“Beautiful Mistress Hedwig was.”  Dobby told him.  “But Dobby thought that Master Harry Potter and Master Padfoot would need to make an escape, so Dobby retrieved her.  Then Dobby felt that Master Harry bes needing his friends so the Elves bes bring them as well.”  The Elf looked confused, which was a rather comical sight with his overly-large nose and bulbous eyes.  “There is being much magic here.”  Dobby pronounced suddenly.

“Winky is feeling this as well.”  The female Elf agreed as her eyes blinked slowly.  “Winky has never felt so-so-“

“Whole.”  Kreacher rasped out.  “Kreacher is feeling _whole_.”

“Just to be clear.”  Hermione’s voice was even, but the girl was clearly in shock.  “We fell through a doorway.  Into something called the Twisting Nether.  And now we’re on a world called Azeroth.  With no way home?”

Apparently she was under the soothe magic as well.  Hermione usually did knee-jerk hysterics rather well.

“I do believe so, Miss Granger.”  Remus’ voice was even in much the same way, but his level of incredulity seemed a bit higher than even Hermione’s.  “And I thought we only had three Elves in the Conspiracy.”

“Uhm, I’m still a bit lost.”  Neville admitted, slowly managing to rise up to his feet.  “But I can’t panic quite like I want to.”

“Should Dobbys nots have been grabbing Master Harry’s friends?”  The elf asked forlornly, looking very much like he wanted to cry.

“No, you did fine, Dobby!”  Harry and the others rushed to reassure the little being.  “We’re all just a little confused.”

“Kreacher, Winky, and Dobby have been bonding other Elves who need a good Master.  We knew that Master Regulus’ brother and Young Master would be needing lots of workers to help them.”  Kreacher explained smartly, in such a tone that implied that his Masters were slow.

“Yes, excellent planning Kreacher.”  Remus told the elf warmly.  “I imagine that we’re all just…..surprised by the number of Elves that you managed to gather is all.  I never realized that there were so many who were…..unaccounted for.”

“There weren’t.”  Kreacher told them matter-of-factly.  “But Master Regulus’ Brother and Master Harry are strong masters and could supersede the weakening bonds from Nasty Old Masters.”

“Alright, well.”  Sirius broke in as he flicked his wand into his hand and looked immensely relieved by the way the tip immediately lit up with his non-verbally cast Lumos Charm.  “We still need to find a room and secure it so we can all sleep on this for a while.  Nearly dying and having thousands of years of history crammed into my brain has made me extremely ready for some Dreamless Sleep.”

Harry shook his head.  “Right.”  He agreed, flicking his own wand into his hand and also casting Lumos.  “Well, let’s go down this hallway and see what we find.”

“One thing to be grateful about!”  Sirius chirped cheerily.

“And that is…..?”  Harry asked somewhat skeptically.  His body ached, his head was pounding, and they were on an _entirely alien world_!  The others looked similarly expectant and unsure of that statement.

“Yep!”  Sirius sang as he began to make his way towards what seemed to be an ornate staircase.  “There’s no Trace on any of you younglings now!”

“Sirius.”  Harry said in a strangled tone of voice.

“Yes, pup?”

“Get a new sense of humor.”

“Agreed.”  Remus deadpanned as he strode over and soundly whacked his friend ‘round the back of the head.

Hermione and Neville looked as if they dearly wanted to repeat the gesture.

“Sorry pup!”  Sirius didn’t look sorry _at all_.  “But James, Frank, and Dr. Granger aren’t here to make traditional ‘dad jokes’ so I have to make up for that!”

Harry made an incomprehensible noise, even as Dobby joined Sirius is laughing at him.  Hermione’s smile was a bit wobbly, but she laughed and Neville seemed to find amusement in the statement as well.

“Does that make Professor Lupin our ‘mum figure’ then?”  The sandy-haired teenager asked cheekily as he and Hermione came forward to stand next to Harry.  Hermione leaning against her former-best-friend-newly-re-friended friend’s arm on his left with Neville standing close enough to brush his arm against Harry’s own on Harry’s right.

Remus choked on his own spit even as Sirius cheerily answered affirmatively.

“He’ll even wear aprons when he cooks~”

“I most certainly _will not_ you overgrown mutt!”

“Winky bes doings the cooking.”  Winky informed them primly.

And with their spirits a bit lighter from the easy banter, they cautiously set out.

―――ᴖᴗ―――

At the first intersection Sirius had made a comment about wishing he had some parchment and Winky had snapped her fingers and handed him some.

“Huh?”  Sirius had asked intelligently, looking from the parchment in Winky’s hand, to Winky’s face, and then back to the parchment.  “How’d you do that?”  His face- along with Remus’ who was guarding their backs- was that of a person who dearly wished to panic, but could not.

Harry was certain his face and his friends’ faces mirrored the expression.

“Dobby told Winky and Kreacher about Master Harry and Master Padfoot needing to be leaving.”  Winky explained slowly, giving Sirius a very concerned look.  “So Winky and Kreacher be finishing everything that Master Harry and Master Padfoot be planning.”  The little Elf snapped her fingers again and a _sizable_ pile of matchbox-sized trunks appeared in front of her.  “Winky is being able to retrieve parchment from the trunks that she be carrying, sirs.”

Dobby bounced a little in excitement.  “Dobby and Kreacher also prepared.”

“So are Mippy and the rest of the House Elves, Master Black sirs!”  One of the previously-unknown and as-of-yet not-introduced Elves piped up excitedly.

“As if Kreacher would allow Master to live in a manner unbefitting of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black.”  Kreacher retorted starchily, the very picture of an offended House Elf.

Sirius’ face was one of extreme happiness, but you could still see that the soothe magic was still in effect.  “You guys.”  Sirius said to them most sincerely.  “Are the greatest House Elves _ever_.”

That elicited cheers from the nearly fifty-strong House Elf contingent.

“Agreed.”  Harry echoed faintly, his heart swelling with fondness for the little creatures.  “But we need to find a room to secure and crash in.”  He pointed out.

“Right.”  Sirius replied hurriedly, taking the parchment from Winky and muttering a series of spells over it.  “It’s like the Marauder’s Map.”  Sirius explained to a curious Harry.  “At least, the first prototype.  I’ll be able to stick markers to the walls- hopefully- and plot out the places we run across.  Making a replica that shows where everyone is at is much trickier, but it’ll work for now.”

“Brilliant.”  Harry’s relieved response was as emphatic as he could make it.

Sirius ended up needing to put his spells on pieces of parchment and then he could have one of the House Elves affix said parchment to the walls.  The tracking spells themselves were neutralized in a few moments by the Tower’s ambient energy- they had quickly come to find out- but the House Elves’ magic simply blended into it, instead of being neutralized by it.

“We should probably do a full sweep.”  Sirius had contemplated out loud after they’d figured out how to get the markers to work.  “Just to make sure that there isn’t a group of people- or a group of something vaguely peopleish- who are with us.  This Tower is huge and I would like to just get all of the surprises into the open while we’ve still got this soothe magic-stuff on us.”

“Agreed.”  Harry had said, thankful beyond belief when Kreacher had presented the group with Pepper-Up Potions.

Slowly they made their way through the elaborate halls made of swirled stone- mostly blue marble in the front halls and old-world style wood in the side halls and servant’s quarters- and trimmed with precious gems and crumbling decorations.  Wherever the walls were crumbling and the area was exposed, Sirius and Remus set up temporary wards to keep anything unfriendly out along with _Caterwauling Charms_ in case the wards _were_ breeched by something.

Their _Tempus Charms_ showed the time and date in a language they did not speak- or even recognize, really- but Sirius was able to cast a more obscure version of the spell and they found that they had been creeping through the halls for about three hours, based on the first parchment used as a marker. 

Thus far they discovered an area that looked like it had housed servants- but the walls were damaged and those spiders took nearly _eight_ cutting curses to cull as the area was too unstable for blasting curses- so they retreated and circled through an area that had seemed as if it once housed livestock.  Passed that was an area that had seemed to serve as a kitchen- fortunately their nap had somewhat acclimated them to the level of technology of their new world- and they had uncovered an area that had seemed to function as a Guard House and Barracks. 

From there they made their way through elaborate rooms that had seemed to be used for entertaining guests, and there had even been a large room with a theatre!

“An opera house, you _barbarians_.”  Hermione informed them faux-primly, a slightly more natural smile settling on her face at the laughs the comment drew. 

They came across many side-rooms and discovered some wraith-like monsters that seemed to be made of arcane energy who were quite hostile.  Spells seemed to not do any damage to them, but Sirius had noticed that he felt especially weak when one had touched him and that gave him the idea to use the spell that Aurors used to siphon off troublesome detained magicals’ magic.

“Moony.”  Sirius called as three of the things and several snake-shaped monsters cornered him.  “The _Dispergimini Siphon_ Curse!”  

Sirius had been an Auror during Voldemort’s original rise and when captured witches or wizards tried to overwhelm the magic-suppressing cuffs that the Aurors used, the Aurors then used a curse called _Dispergimini Siphon_ that siphoned energy from the witch or wizard into the ground, where it was then absorbed- if in a magic-rich area- or dispersed.   It took some concentrated effort from the two fully-grown adults, but the _Siphon_ curse caused the nearly teenage-tall or serpent shaped things made of sparkly smoky energy to disperse into a harmless shower of energy that was then absorbed by the Tower’s stones.

“Well, that was informative.”  Sirius said after he and Remus had cleared out the Library area and were catching their breath before they tried to move forward.

After going through a series of stairs and defeating several more sparkly-energy monsters they came across a strange guy who looked almost like a misshapen centaur and some demented House Elf looking things.

“I think.”  Harry panted once Sirius and Remus had defeated the weird centaur-dude and the House elves had taken care of the strange little beings after the three teenagers had stunned them.  Of course they had needed to dodge strange colored bolts of energy during the fight and had been damn lucky that their _Protego_ spells had held against the ones they had been unable to dodge.  “That we’re going to have to find a way to physically defend ourselves.”

“Agreed, Pup.”  Sirius gasped out between labored breaths, trying to clear the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his shirt.  “This really is a whole new world.”

“You can say that again.”  Neville rejoined wryly.  “I think I’m almost scared of this soothe magic-stuff wearing off.”  The boy then grinned over at Hermione.  “But our resident bookworm should be easily pacified with all the books- or _tomes_ \- laying around.”

Hermione smacked Neville on the shoulder but she gave the boys a bright grin.  “The books look really interesting.”  She told them excitedly, her eyes bright with the challenge of discovering new and interesting information.

Sirius tipped his head back and released a strained laugh and leaned against Remus for a moment.  “Her and Remy both.  We’ll have to drag them out of here by their ankles.”  Sirius mimed dragging a rope of something.

Remus charmed Sirius’ hair bright blue in retaliation as the teens laughed.  “Shut up _prat_.”  He informed his friend with a faux-disdainful sniff.  “We need to finished sweeping this place and put some temp shields in place so we can set up a safe room and regroup.”

“Agreed.”  Sirius replied as he calmed down and they trudged forward.

―――ᴖᴗ―――

From there they explored further, going outside the Tower at one point and circling around the dome that covered what they were sure was the Stables and getting their first look at their new surroundings.

From what Medivh’s nap had shown them, the Tower was entirely isolated from the outside world. 

For the moment, anyways.

The Tower shared the area with a few houses, a building that looked to have been a church at one point, and a graveyard within the small hollow in the surrounding mountains that the formed a natural barrier that encircled the Tower. 

The sky and everything were grey…lifeless for the lack of any better word.  As if something had drained the surroundings of all the vitality they once possessed.

“Wow.  This place is _huge_.”  Sirius remarked nonchalantly- carefully skipping over the topic of their dreary surroundings- as he ran a critical gaze over the stone walkways, arches, and terraces of the stone fortress that was their new home.  “Maybe even bigger than old Hoggywarts.”

Remus gave the man the exasperated look that comment deserved.  Hermione’s face met her hand with a solid _thwack_.  Harry and Neville just rolled their eyes.

A fortress it was- the tower might equal Hogwarts in size alone, and the surrounding areas were most likely twice the size of the Hogwarts grounds.

They had not wanted to stay in the open for long, however, and had quickly headed back inside where they ran into a few other beasts that they had never seen before and took some quick, clever thinking to defeat. 

They discovered a few more wings of the fortress with more of the same blue stone and rooms of various sizes and degrees of opulence.  Any suspicious looking potion-like things were banished by Sirius and Remus- just as everything the centaur-like man had been working on had been banished. 

“The banishing spells we are using are considered a Transfiguration as opposed to a Charm because we are literally removing the items from existence.”  Remus explained to the curious teens.  “It takes a decent amount of skill to cast because if you do no visualize the spell properly the results can be……disastrous.”

“There’s a story about a wizard who tried to banish a rat and ended up creating a lion-sized version.”  Sirius informed them with far too much glee.  “Because if you mess up the object can- sometimes, depending on which stage you screwed up- absorb the magic you were attempting to use and sort of reverse the process.”

Hermione’s squeak of horror was rather high-pitched and amusing, as was her follow-up comment.  “Don’t you _dare_ use those spells on those _blasted_ spiders!”

They also discovered a large room that seemed to contain a giant chessboard- much to Harry’s displeasure and Hermione’s choked laughter- and the resulting regaling of the tale of First Year story to Neville had amused everyone enough to stave off moroseness for a little while longer.

They had even found a few secret doors that led to secreted rooms in the library on their second pass through- though no more creepy almost-Centaurs, thankfully.

They- and the teens- also took another dose of Pepper Up, despite the disapproving looks of the Elves.

The rest of the mapping and securing the tower went pretty smoothly now they knew that spells would work and had somewhat of an idea of what they were up against.

―――ᴖᴗ―――

Eventually they backtracked to the Dining Hall, as it had plenty of windows to see out of, but also plenty to room and places to take cover in if necessary.

By then the soothe magic seemed to be wearing off as well as their second doses of the Pepper Up Potions.

Harry, Hermione, and Neville- along with the elves- quickly set up the two magical tents that Winky had produced.

“Remind me to do something brilliant for the elves once we get settled here.”  Harry muttered to his friends.

“Agreed.”  The other two chorused whole-heartedly.

In a short amount of time they had set up one tent for the humans, and one tent for the elves. 

Meanwhile Sirius and Remus set up every protective enchantment and alarm spell they could think of, with Kreacher and the other House Elves’ assistance just in case.

Eventually, however, they all trooped inside the tent and crashed.

―――ᴖᴗ―――

The next day had been spent huddled together in the rather opulent room they had found the day before, as the knowledge that they had passed through the _Veil of Death and landed into a completely foreign world_ sank in without the aid of the soothe magic.

The elves pulled out food at some point as their Employers were really not paying attention.

The humans had had a rather embarrassing- in retrospect- breakdown.  They had cried and raged and pandered theories, but in the end the three ‘main’ House Elves had forced Calming Draughts upon them and forced them to calm down.

“Well.”  Sirius said as he ran a shaky hand through his hair.  “We need to secure the Tower and the surrounding area.  Meaning we need to actually repair the physical breaches so we can get rid of the temp wards and then set up some defenses and a series of alarms so we can know _which_ area is being breeched.  I’ve got a few quick-fixes in mind, but we have no idea how useful our magic will be against any new threats.”

“So, we should figure out how to mix them together?  Our magic and their magic- the arcane stuff?”  Hermione had asked, ashen faced and shaken but quite a bit more composed than she had been.

“Yes, basically.”  Sirius had replied contemplatively as his rather brilliant mind chased ideas.  “Which means we’re not only going to have to learn how to fight, we’re going to have to hit the books.”

“Winky is having books!”  The little elf had butted in excitedly.  “Winky is having _lots_ of books!”

“That’s another thing.  You guys mentioned feeling different?”  Harry asked her, concern in his eyes as he kicked himself for being so caught up in his own problems that he had forgotten about his friends.

Amazing friends who remembered all the important things while he was off stuffing up situations.

“Oh, yes!”  Winky nodded emphatically.  “Winky is feeling whole.” 

“Dobby is as well!”  The excitable elf had chimed in.  “Dobby has always needed a Master to be able to use his magic freely, but he is not feeling that now!”

Harry blinked, surprised.  “Well, does that mean you’re all Free Elves now?”

What followed was a conversation full of wailing from all of the House Elves for varying reasons.  In the end they had the elves sign a Magical Contract that Hermione had quickly drawn up- since the Elves had found that the Master’s Bond was nearly gone- that stipulated the terms and conditions of their employment as well as hammered out the elves’ wages  in a manner that satisfied all three parties involved.

The House Elves, the others, and Hermione.

“Now that that’s settled.”  Sirius said with a laugh.  “We have things that need doing.”

“First of all, we need to divide and conqueror.”  Remus said decisively.  “Since the contract states that the Elves will follow Dobby, Winky, and Kreacher’s leads, I say that we assign each of them a ‘domain’ and let them have at it unless they need something from us.”

“Sounds good to me.”  Neville told them with sort of a sad grin playing about his lips.  “I just wish that Topsy-“

There was a loud _crack_ and a barely coherent House Elf appeared.  “Master Neville.”  The little being whispered as Neville surged forward and cradled the little elf to his chest.  “Yous needs to be calling the others.  We is being attacked and the Lady- she-“  Tears welled up in the little elf’s eyes.  “-she told us tos Downfall.”

Neville’s skin went absolutely _grey_ in color as he called out a quick succession of names.

Attached to one of the Elves was the battered and bloody form of the formidable Augusta Longbottom.  

A few moments later the spirit of Medivh- far less substantial than he had originally appeared to be the last time they met him- reappeared in front of them.  “The doorway that existed on your world overloaded when she came through.”  He informed them solemnly.  “I managed to pull her the rest of the way through, but now there is no doorway connecting your old planet to the Twisting Nether and so even this occurrence will not be repeated.”  The spirit waved a hand over the Elves and the elderly lady.  “This is the last time I will be able to interfere, as I am rapidly fading away into the annals of history where I belong.”  He warned them before he once again disappeared.

―――ᴖᴗ―――

“The Death Eaters attacked the Ministry not three hours after you went through the Veil.”  Augusta informed them later that day when she had stirred from her slumber. “Everything, everybody were caught unawares.“  Her voice trailed off and Neville wrapped a comforting arm around his Gran. 

After a few minutes the lady found the strength to continue.  “One of the elves had been in contact with your Dobby and felt the bond to Dobby’s Master stretch, but not break.  They began to make preparations without my knowledge.”  She smiled wanly at the elves.  “Thank you.  It gave me hope.”  She returned her gaze to the others gathered around her.  “You’ve been gone for roughly a month.  Not long after _he_ took over, something happened and Voldemort fell.  The Dark Mark disappeared nearly a week ago, but those he freed from Azkaban went even wilder than last time.”  She returned her gaze to her grandson.  “If you had not called Topsy when you had, Neville…..”  Her voice trailed off.

“Well.”  Sirius said decisively.  “You’re here now.  With Neville and the rest of us and we have a chance to forge our own path.”  The Black Lord gave the old woman a bright grin.  “You were a Gryffindor, were you not Lady Aggie?”

The woman’s chin tilted up a bit, in defiance or pride, Harry couldn’t tell.  “I was indeed, Lord Black.”  She told him as her hand tightened around her Grandson’s own.  “And this opportunity I will not spend constantly looking towards the past.”  She looked at Neville.  “I’m so sorry, Neville.  So-“

The teen shook his head.  “It’s fine Gran.  We were both too worried about what other people thought.”  The teen grinned at her.  “Good thing you got me my own wand over the Easter Hols, huh?”

The Longbottom Lady laughed.  “Now, then.”  She said briskly as she calmed down from her slightly hysteric laughter- that no one called her on.

Wasn’t like they did not understand how overwhelming the situation was to wake up to.

“You said that Dobby, Winky, and Kreacher were going to be the leaders for the other House Elves?”

“Yep.”  Sirius told her.

Augusta gave the man a sharp nod before she turned to the other three elves.  “Topsy is a Garden Elf.  Does one of you already have that experience?”

The elves all nodded negatively.  “Winky has been doings some light gardenings, but she is not a garden elf.  Winky is being a household elfs.  She is mostly beings in charge of cleanings, mendings, organizings, and cookings.”

“Dobby is being a laundrys and shopping elf.”  Dobby told her eagerly, hopping up and down in excitement.  “Dobbys is beings good at plannings and gathering provisionsies.”

Harry and Sirius grinned, and Sirius tossed out a fond.  “Dobby has been a life-saver for Harry and I.  Winky and Kreacher too, but Dobby was the first elf that helped us when we began plotting.”

Dobby beamed and bounced a little while Winky and Kreacher preened a bit.

“Kreacher was the Head Elf for House Black before he was assigned to Mistress Black.”  The eldest elf informed the Lady Longbottom calmly.

Harry had never noticed before, but without the muttering under his breath, Kreacher spoke much cleaner English than either Dobby or Winky.

“Very well then.”  Augusta stated decisively.  “Then I propose that Kreacher be the Chief of Staff for the elves.”  Augusta paused and looked at Hermione.  “Will you draw up contracts for the Longbottom Elves, dear?  I saw that you did that while I was dreaming of the history of this place.”

Hermione smiled brightly and immediately tackled the task.

“As I was saying.”  Augusta continued after a moment of brief amusement.  “I propose that we set Kreacher as the Chief of Staff for the elves and have Topsy be the Head Garden Elf, Fitz- he was the Longbottom Head Elf, but he prefers to work in the Stables and care for animals- the Head of the Stables and Livestock, Winky the Head of House Duties, and Dobby as the Head of Acquisition of Supplies.  Is that acceptable to everyone?”

Harry looked over the assembled elves.  “It’s up to you guys.”  He told them warmly.  “We’d be in a right mess if you all hadn’t been so bloody amazing.”

“True that.”  Sirius agreed amiably as the others added their own praise.

After a few moments of muttering sweeping through the elves, Winky spoke up.  “Winky would be liking for Mippy to be the Head of the Library.”  She told them somewhat uncertainly.

“I hadn’t thought of that”  Augusta mused thoughtfully.  “Quills would be another excellent Library Elf.”

“Alright.”  Sirius said brightly as he clapped his hands together.  “Then it’s settled.  Kreacher.”  Here the Black Lord hesitated a moment before plowing ahead fearlessly.  “You will be in charge of the elves as a whole, but you are also responsible for making sure they follow the rules- I want all of you to get proper rest and not work more than nine hours a day and we all will take Sundays off.”

The elves pouted en mass but Sirius stood firm. 

“Fortunately from what we’ve seen, we can use seven-day weeks here as their calendars seem to follow that basic format, and the days also seem to have twenty-four hours which is also a relief.  Since Harry and I were preparing to leave for an extended amount of time-“  Sirius studiously ignored the expressions that everyone other human but Harry shot him with ease, though Remus’ was more exasperated since Sirius had not mentioned him.  “We should have plenty of provisions to set down roots.”

“I think that Remus and Hermione should focus on figuring out how to secure the area, maybe with Madam Longbottom’s help-“

“Call me Aunt Aggie, Harry dear.  You too, Hermione, Sirius, Remus.  There’s not much point in excessive propriety at this point.”  The Lady Dowager Longbottom  told them with a rather amused quirk of her lips.

“Aunt Aggie, then.”  Harry acknowledged gracefully, ignoring the twinge at the word ‘aunt’.  ‘ _Hopefully she’ll be nothing like Aunt Petunia_.’  He thought wryly as he internally snickered about the bamboozled look on Neville’s face.  “Meanwhile Sirius, Neville, and I can work on repairing the Tower and making sure all the unfriendly varmints are taken care of.”  Harry hurried to tack on.  “It’s not that I don’t think that Remus or Aunt Aggie or Hermione could fight, just that you three are better at theory and stand the best chance of figuring out how to make our magic and Azeroth magic work together, is all.”

“I agree.”  Remus put in before anyone else could answer.  “We need to figure out how our magics interact and whatnot sooner rather than later, so I think it is a good idea.”

“Alright.”  Sirius said a little while later, rising to his feet and stretching.  “Let’s take a dose of Dreamless Sleep and commence Operation Establishment first thing in the morning.”

The rest chorused their agreements and before long another tent was pulled out so there would be one for the ladies, one for the gents, and one for the elves.

Fortunately the tents had working showers and commodes, so they did not have use the tower’s rather…provincial ones.

“Magic is awesome, no matter what world I’m in.”  Harry told the guys as he toweled off later that night.

“Agreed.”  The answering chorus answered him with no little amount of feeling.

―――ᴖᴗ―――

The next few months involved a lot of trial-and-error, but fortunately the House Elves had been thorough in gathering everything the original members of the Conspiracy would need for an extended stay in a faraway land.

 ‘Seriously thorough’ was a joke that Winky had banned Dobby and Sirius from making _ever again_. 

They had not listened at first and Winky had walloped them both with her frying pan. 

Thankfully the joke had mostly died after that. 

_Mostly_.

One of the more amusing unexpected occurrences was when Remus locked himself inside the tower’s dungeon on what promised to be the Full Moon- with as many protections as possible on the cell itself.  Only, the transformation to turn him into a speech-capable wolf-hybrid thing instead of a mindless raging beast.  The ridiculous man still insisted on being locked up in the tower’s dungeons, during the Full Moon but they spruced up his room since he did not spend the entire night destroying it. 

His transformation was by no means _pretty_ , and the wolf he turned into seemed rather sickly, but Remus was rather relieved. 

Especially as after that first transformation his monthly ‘sickness’ seemed to nearly disappear.  He still felt tired around the Full Moon but it was nothing like it had been back on Earth.

On the other hand, it had taken near a month for Sirius, Neville, and Harry to fully map out and secure the Tower. 

They had to improvise a great deal, as some of the things they ran into were entirely impervious to magic! 

The strange snake-like things in the Library that floated around instead of crawling had come back after a few days, and Harry had fired off a _Patronus_ in his panic- as they just _appeared_ out of _nowhere_ and Sirius was all the way across the room dealing with another group.   Remus- with Aunt Aggie’s help- was covering Hermione as their area suddenly spawned nearly twenty of the things. 

The strange things made Harry feel all weak and drained when they touched him but Harry’s panicked _Patronus Charm_ had absorbed the strange creatures entirely!

The others magicals had followed suit very quickly when they had noticed.

Now, the tower was home to several fully corporeal, seemingly self-sustaining _Patronus Charms._  Harry’s Prongs. Sirius’ grim, Moony’s wolf, Aggie’s vulture, Hermione’s otter, and Neville’s cat- they seemed to pull in the ambient arcane energy somehow.  The exceedingly Light spell seemed to take on a patrolling mindset and provided not only light, but a sense of hope wherever they tread. 

The researchers of their group were entirely flummoxed about how the _Patroni_ could suck up arcane energy.  Sirius mentioned how  Harry’s mother, Lily, would have loved such a mystery.

Still, the first month had been spent mapping and securing the Tower for the Assault Team. 

From where they had woken up, at the bottom of the entry stairs, they had needed to clear the Servant’s Quarters- with the humongous spiders!- to the right, and the Livery to the left.  They had secured the doors and gone back to the main staircase after they had cleared those areas- they also barred the main entrance door and Warded it, just in case.

The stonework of Karazhan was predominately a blue marble, but the architecture was also very old-world style, so Sirius had requested that the Research Team look up structural enchantments from the books that the elves had brought.

Sirius, as the Steward, had had access to Potter Manor.  So the elves had not only emptied all the Black properties that Sirius had been the owner of, they also used this loophole to empty the Potter properties as well, despite Sirius not having strictly ordered them to do so.   With the advanced warning most of the Longbottom Library had also made its way to Azeroth, so the Research Team had managed a fair number of spells for the Assault Team to employ.

With the majority of the Black, Potter, and Longbottom libraries at their disposal, Remus and Aggie had managed to come up with a spell that helped them translate the languages in the Library somewhat decently.

“How many languages do they need?!” Hermione had exclaimed in dismay on the Research Team’s first day in the tower Library. somewhat decently. 

They couldn’t speak them, but they were managing through the texts.

Kind of. 

Sort of. 

Slowly.

The Research Team’s entire first month had been spent organizing and cataloguing, as well as finding translation spells and other things that could assist them in understanding or searching all of the books they now had at their disposal.

All of the exceedingly Dark or slimy feeling books were sequestered in the hidden section of the Library.  Even though they had gotten rid of the strange centaur man, the Research Team came across another secret section that had the Shade of a man called Aran that they had needed to defeat.

So, the Research Team had not exactly gotten an entirely ‘safe’ job, which kept Hermione or Aggie from feeling too put out at not being out with the Assault Team repairing walls and fighting all manner of strange, hostile creatures.

―――ᴖᴗ―――

The House Elves were having blast cleaning. 

Some of that being _literal_ since Sirius had whipped up some old prank potions with a sharper bite to them- _House Elves were delightful little beings, they had truly thought of **everything**_ -  so that the elves could crusade against the encroaching spiders and other bestial terrors that had either hatched since the Assault Team had swept through the area or were trying to break into the tower from the outside.

Harry and Neville soon learned that the _Reparo_ Charm could only be used for small things.  However as long as all the required mass was provided the _Restauro_ Charm could be used on something like a building.  So that was what they did to the damaged sections of the Tower, after first trying to spell on some of the smaller structures in the courtyard to get a feel for the spell first.

“I think the amount of energy is helping the walls heal.”  Sirius panted after they finished a section on the tower’s outer rim.  “But overcoming the arcane energy long enough for the charm to work is bloody exhausting.”

Due to the obscene amount of undeath they had witnessed in their nap, after the first month the Assault Team dug up and incinerated all the bodies that had been buried in the graveyard.  Even if they were mostly just bones.  Since they needed to work on their physical fitness as well as their magic, they did most of this work by hand- the good-ole-fashioned-nonmagical-way.  They tried to be as respectful as possible, but they did not want to wake up to an army of zombies at some point.

Sirius complained about it at every semi-available opportunity. 

The work part, anyways.  He liked to try to freak Harry and Neville out with stories of zombies, though. 

Bless Winky and her frying pan!  The Head Elf of the Kitchens would whap Sirius over the head whenever the man got too carried away whenever she came to bring them food.

Hedwig and Crookshanks- who came along with the Longbottom elves, along with Hermione’s belongings that Dobby had forgotten; bless House Elves and their ability to sense bonds!- spent most of their time near the Research Team or being doted on by either elves or humans.  They provided a sense of balance and comfort to everyone as the newcomers were still struggling under the weight of being in an entirely unknown world and cut off from anyone they had ever known.

―――ᴖᴗ―――

As the time flew by the weather became progressively colder and colder, and the food supply that the House Elves had brought with them dwindled.   To be fair, they _were_ reaching the five-month-mark and had been eating solely from things that the elves had packed before they had unexpectedly left Earth. 

While they were fine in terms of produce, but they rather desperately needed livestock. 

Their issue with this was that they did not have the tower fully secured to their liking- Sirius and the other adults were _adamant_ about a _Fidelius-_ styled _Ward_ that covered the whole area around the tower.

Complications came in the form of the amount of Ward anchors they would need according to Harry’s mum’s notes on the Charm-based Ward.  They knew that Karazhan rested on the nexus point of all the major leylines of their new world and they wanted to ensure that no one could follow the lines to them or choke the lines and cause the protections to fail unexpectedly. It was going to take them a while yet to finalize where the Ward Anchors would be settled and how and what they would be made out of.  Azeroth seemed to be a bit richer in precious metals and jewels, so they wanted to ensure that their metal and jewels and Runestones would be compatible with the arcane and natural energies. 

If not, they would need to find local materials to set up the protections with.

“I fear that materials mined from Azeroth are attuned to the- ah, natural frequency of this world’s magic.”  Augusta informed them over dinner one evening.  “Using earth-made ones would only enhance such a scheme, of course, but we would need to add our protections on the foundation of Azeroth-produced materials.”

For all the precision their wands allowed them and all the information at their fingertips, this world had numerous new magical abilities to counter-balance that boon.  While it seemed that Earth’s magic was a little ahead in terms of Warding and a few other areas, arcane power was not something they could easily dismiss. 

The Research Team was confident that they could add to the tower’s existing protections and make it nigh-impenetrable to those who were not keyed into those protections.  However, they still had a plethora of information to go over about Portals and other Azeroth magus abilities as well as experiments to conduct on twining arcane energy into their Ward schemes before they could consider all of their bases being fully covered.

That brought up another point.  Bullion or not, they did not know if their gold would be accepted. 

They also did not possess a map of the surrounding areas and what possible trading routes there might be.  Compounding this was the knowledge that they must have arrived in the spring or summer time for this region- it was so dreary it was difficult to tell- and they had no idea how long ‘winter’ would last or even when it would decide to show up in all of its frigid splendor. 

They also couldn’t physically defend themselves properly yet, still mostly needing to rely on their magic to do so- and danger was _everywhere_ according to their nap.

They could not even be guaranteed absolute safety among their fellow humans in this land! 

Not to mention possibly meeting on of Sylvanas Windrunner’s undead, with their half-rotten bodies and virulent hatred for humans; let alone a green-skinned Orc with their prominent teeth, huge muscles, and enormous weapons!

The House Elves had once again forced Calming Draughts on their silly humans after they had _once again_ worked themselves up into a panicked frenzy.

“Alright, this is what we’re going to do.”  Sirius said decisively after calming down and giving it some thought.  “First we need to make sure that we can get back inside this area once we’ve left it.  We know that I- and the other adults- can _Apparate_ _within_ the tower, so we’ll just need to make sure that I can _Apparate_ in after leaving the range of the enchantments on this place.  We’ll be testing the House Elves’ version of Apparition as well. Yes, you guys, I know that we’ve taught you to _Apparate_ , but we older people have more experience, so we’ll be doing the testing, are we clear?”

The teens and the House Elves nodded, though the teens did not look overly thrilled.

“Assuming that we don’t run into any major setbacks with that part of the plan.”  Remus continued, rolling his eyes and huffing a laugh at Harry’s muttered- _“You mean other than being on an entirely foreign world with questionable soil and weirdly complex magic we’ve never heard of?_ ”- and continued.  “Once we are certain that we can get back inside, we’ll send out the elves under Dobby’s purview out in pairs to make a comprehensive map of the surrounding areas.  The goal will be to find places we can get the things we need without running into anything overly nasty along the way.” 

Sirius held up a hand to forestall the elves’ concern and protests.  “I know that you are more than capable of defending yourselves, but we _really have no idea_ what’s out there and we want you guys to be as safe as possible.” 

The elves still seemed rather mutinous but nodded obediently. 

“Good.”  Augusta informed them smartly.  “We want you to go as far as you can every day and pick whichever direction seems to have the least amount of taint to it to pursue, alright?”

“Yes, ma’am!”  Dobby chirped cheerfully.

Sirius nodded in satisfaction.  “Good.  Once you find a spot we can reasonably appear without causing any havoc, I’ll have you plant an Apparition Marker and _Apparate_ there, so that we can make a Portkey.  No, you guys, _listen_.  We’ll have to bring back supplies anyways, and this world has Portals.  It would be much easier to make a _Portkey_ seem like a Portal than _Apparition_ , especially when we’ll have stuff- and hopefully animals- to transport.”

“I still feel like a burden.”  Harry grumbled.

“Me too.”  The other two griped.  All three of them scowled petulantly at their adult caretakers.

“Hey, none of that now!”  Sirius said in a forcefully cheerful voice as he reached out to ruffle Harry’s messy hair.  Hermione and Neville both scrambled out of Sirius’ range while the man and his Godson squabbled. 

“You’ve all been great through all of this craziness.”  Remus to them kindly, honey colored eyes full of affection as he regarded them.  “Even with all the work you boys are doing you’ve really buckled down and started studying, which will help a lot!  And the lovely Miss Granger has been incredibly focused and that is why we have nearly gotten the Tower’s Ward Scheme plotted.  Plus she has been running with you boys in the morning and evenings!  You’ve all been working really hard!”

“We’re _proud_ of you.”  Augusta interjected sincerely.  Her eyes lingered on each of them a moment before she looked out over the House Elves.  “All of you.”

“We know that Medivh guy said we needed to secure this place, and right now that’s our primary goal.”  Sirius butted in cheerfully.  “But we need provisions, too.  We’re learning guys!  We’ll get this!”

“Yeah.”  Harry smiled ruefully.  “We’ll get there.” 

“As long as we’re all together.”  Hermione added with a grin.

“All for one, and one for all!”  Dobby cheered excitedly.  “Like the musket ears!”

“We totally need new entertainment material.”  Sirius groaned dramatically as the others broke into peals of laughter.  “Somebody move up the tellyvisions on the priority lists.”

―――ᴖᴗ―――

In the end they found that the nearest area that could fulfill their needs was called Elwynn Forrest.  It wasn’t very far from the human stronghold of Stormwind.

The humans had debated going into the city, but in the end Kreacher had solved the issue.

“Azeroth has a race of beings who look similar to House Elves.”  The elderly elf had told them all resolutely.  “Kreacher and Winky will go into the city.  Dobby will stay with the boys.”  The elderly elf pinned Harry and Neville with a serious stare.  “Make sure that those two-“  Kreacher pointed a long, bony finger at Sirius and Dobby. “-don’t cause a ruckus.”

Harry nodded solemnly, green eyes twinkling with mirth.  Neville, who was standing beside him, was losing his battle against his laughter. 

“We will.”  The two teens chorused cheerfully.

The House Elves had taken to their new situation- of being whole without a Master’s Bond- fairly well by now.  Dobby had gotten more energetic, Winky had gotten fussier, and Kreacher had gotten bossy. 

Since it was a Full Moon, Remus would be staying behind with Aunt Aggie and Hermione.  The ladies would be finishing up the last few experiments with the materials from Earth, so that they could get started with the Azeroth materials as soon as the Expedition returned.

As much as the women wanted to go see new places, they wanted the tower fully secured _first_.

“Be safe.”  Augusta told them the morning they readied to depart.  “Return to us whole and quickly.”

“We will, Gran.”  Neville told her firmly, gently prying Hermione off of Harry and allowing the terribly worried young woman to give him a bone-crushing hug of his own.

―――ᴖᴗ―――

Kreacher sniffed and pinned a faux-wounded looking Sirius with a glare.  “And you wish for us to attempt to use our remaining Galleons?”  If Kreacher had eyebrows, they’d be arched in a rather unimpressed manner.  However he _didn’t_ and so his face-wrinkles deepening as he leveled Sirius with an unimpressed stare caused him to look a bit funny. 

Harry tried to contain his snickers.

Sirius looked offended.  “They’ll work!  You’ll see!  Doubter!”

“ _Right_.”  Harry rolled his eyes expressively.  “Is this anything like when you said that arcane energy ‘isn’t that different’ and nearly blew yourself up?”

Sirius huffed and crossed his arms as he sulked.  “How was I supposed to know that was going to happen!”

Harry and Kreacher shared longsuffering looks while Neville and Dobby snickered in the background.

Winky was driving the wagon and resolutely ignoring all of them.

―――ᴖᴗ―――

The excursion went fairly well, though they had found that a group called the Defias Brotherhood was trying to stir up trouble.

The boys met a very nice lady who insisted that they call her Ma Stonefield who was more than happy to sell them some livestock-or direct them towards a neighbor such as the McClure’s who operated a vineyard with a ‘Ma sent me’ reference- and fill them in on all the latest gossip as long as they did some chores for her. 

They fumbled through some of the chores and had to outright ask for instructions for others, but they made it through.  There were also a few moments when they had to use some magic on unexpected and most unwelcome interlopers, but as they could not defend themselves without it they tried to use things that were easily explainable.

The sweet little old lady bought their story of being an Uncle and two cousins- and their Goblin friends, Ma was helpful enough to supply the assumption- who were trying to save the family farm well enough and was more than happy to give them a plethora of advice, as well as a number of seeds. 

They ended up staying in Ma’s barn for the night and helping her with chores most of the next morning and early afternoon.

It was still a great relief to see Kreacher and Winky, though. 

The two House Elves had given the others slightly apologetic looks, but assured them that their goods and information were well worth the unexpected wait.

―――ᴖᴗ―――

Winky and Kreacher discovered that their new world had bags that were crafted to shrink and store in stasis anything put inside them.  There were a set number of slots a bag could hold, and the higher the number of slots, the more expensive the bag. 

There were also animals that were trained to be ridden as Mounts.  The Mounts were especially fascinating to the two House Elves as one bought the harness for the animal instead of just the animal itself.  The harness was how the Mounts were summoned or dismissed and no reputable Handler- nor an Trainer, who taught the secrets to riding a Mount- would deal with an unknown party who held no references.  The elves were unsure of exactly how the Mounts returned to their stables when dismissed but were convinced that the intelligent animals were not harmed by the process.

The two elves admitted that they had been sidetracked by the pretty Nightsabers and the giant Eagles and lost track of time, resulting in them needing to stay at an Inn as they missed the curfew for the Gates.

Sirius just laughed uproariously.  “See?”  He’d choked out between laughs.  “I’m not the only one with a short attention span!”

Kreacher kicked him in the shin.  “At least your Galleons were actually accepted by the Bank.”  The elf grumbled at his cackling employer.

“Winky bes exchanging some gold bars with the Dwarves for Azeroth ones.  Winky told them that they were old and she needed newer ones to take back to her employer.”  Winky explained as they made their way out of Elywnn to the pre-determined Portkey point.  “And she be getting some information for the Research Team as well.”

Sirius and the others talked it over, but they ended up deciding to stay a few more days and gather more things.

“More chores for us.”  Neville said bemusedly.

Harry snorted in amusement as he settled down inside his sleeping bag.  “Normally people go to far off worlds and kick butt.  _We_ go to a far off world and do chores for little old ladies in exchange for _chickens_.”

Sirius snorted his water up his nose.

―――ᴖᴗ―――

Knowing that their new world also had bags that were essentially charmed to open into expanded space allowed them to buy much more than they originally planned as they now had reasonable excuses.

As for livestock they ended up with a breeding pair of horses, three young fillies, two male foals- plus the elderly mare who was nursing the two youngest.  There was an elderly dairy cow, four heifers or female calfs, a young bull, some pigs- or boars-, some chickens, and some ducks.  They had also acquired some deer and smaller animals- like a few puppies and some kittens even a few squirrels that Neville had found and rescued from a fire that he planned on nursing back to health- purely for the purpose of being pets.

Hedwig was a fully trained Post Owl who had a harness with about every protection possible and they needed to see if her innate talents passed over to any of her offspring.  Crookshanks, who had his own well-protected harness, was half-kneazle and they were curious as to what his offspring would be like.  Towards that end they also collected a few birds and even more felines that seemed inclined to travel with them as well.

“We’ll need to see about keeping them from breeding like rabbits.” Sirius muttered as he moved things around in their wagon.  “Hopefully our Fitz will know how to deal with that sort of thing.”

They traveled along the road with their herd in the wagon they’d repaired- with magic- solely for the purpose of keeping up appearances.  Once they were far enough out of sight they spelled all of the animals asleep and applied the appropriate charms to keep them from getting injured and they all _Portkey’ed_ back to the Tower.

Securing all the new animals into the Livery was…..entertaining.  And somewhat hair-rending and scary.  But they managed. 

Eventually.

Mostly because Fitz was there.  Bless that Elf!

“Is it a good sign or a bad sign when Aunt Aggie point and laughs at you?”  Harry wondered out loud from where he, Neville, and Sirius were sprawled out on some hay, entirely too exhausted to be bothered to move at the moment.

“Ughn.”  Neville replied blearily.

“What he said.”  Sirius mumbled peevishly as Aggie continued to guffaw in the background.

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	3. First Impressions

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞―≡―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―◊―――

Not a week and a half after their excursion winter hit hard and fast, burying the tower in nearly a foot of snow and an inch of ice.

“Well.”  Sirius commented as they sat in the terrace above the Livery- _Air-Freshening Charms_ were wonderful things- looking out of the domed glass ceiling while he sipped his tea.  “We got bloody lucky.”

“Uhm hm.”  Harry mumbled sleepily from his place beside the man, nearly nodding off into his tea.  “Animals are hard work.  Fitz is a slave driver.”  There was a fluttering of wings as Hedwig settled down on Harry’s shoulder and began to gently preen his hair.  The lovely Snowy Owl had not taken a sincere liking to any of the birds they had brought back with them, but she seemed to be a little more tolerant of them now that nearly a month had passed.

Sirius barked out a laugh.  “I know!  I’ll never look at a hamburger the same way again!”  A tiny squirrel skittered up the leg of the tea table and planted itself in Sirius’ hair, the man automatically handing up a hunk of bread for the little animal to snack on.

Harry glared at his Godfather- absently noting that that particular squirrel was most likely the original one that Neville had saved, named Socks- and sipped at his wonderfully hot tea.

The terrace was far enough above the livery animals for them to sit in peace for a few moments when they needed a break from chores but did not want to walk all the way across the tower. 

The Research Team had put up a ban on magical transportation two weeks ago- though the House Elves had gotten their permissions back yesterday- since the Team was testing out other modes of transportation that needed to be warded against.

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―――

“ _Apparition_ works by distorting time and space.”  Remus explained patiently to the non—researchers the night the ban had gone into effect.  “However, Portals function along the same vein, just on a grander scale.”

“Indeed.”  Augusta had interjected after swallowing her bit of stew. 

“It’s fascinating!”  Hermione injected cheerfully, her eyes alight with excitement.  “I’ve learned so much about our magic while trying to learn about Azeroth’s magic.  It’s amazing!”  Hermione bounced a little before flushing brightly and hastily adding.  “I mean, I still miss home sometimes, but-“

“-but this world is pretty fascinating for all that it is terrifying and at least we aren’t dead?”  Harry offered in a perfect deadpan delivery.

Neville whacked his friend on the shoulder as everyone else laughed a bit.  “Morbid _prat_.”

“True story.”  Harry replied unrepentantly.

“Anyways.”  Remus continued after the glares and amusement ebbed.  “ _Apparition_ uses a person’s innate magic to latch on to a ripple in time and space- which are supposedly all around us.  A witch or wizard’s focus and magical strength are what determine the time and space that can be traversed by _Apparition_.”

“Which is especially fascinating as a muggle named Albert Einstein predicted that theory with mathematics to the muggles nearly a century before we left earth.”  Hermione whispered to the boys, so as not to disturb Remus’ explanation. 

“The witch or wizard then uses their magic to fold the distance between two places into a single step for a single instant.”  Remus continued smoothly over the top of Hermione’s whispers.  “It is why noiseless _Apparition_ is so incredibly difficult to master.  The trademark ‘ _crack’_ sound comes from the abrupt vacuum left behind when the person _Apparating_ winks out of existence and appears at their destination a fraction of a moment _before_ they left their original location.  Noiseless _Apparition_ requires such fine control that the user disappears and reappears in the same exact instant.”

“A tricky and nearly impossible feat for the majority of those who utilize _Apparition_.”  Augusta added as Remus paused to take another bite of his dinner.  “Truthfully _Apparition’s_ restrictions- or what the Ministry used to espouse as ‘limits’- can be mostly overcome, but it takes a great deal of practice, a familiarity with one’s magic, and a great deal of focus.”

“People who screw up when _Apparating_ \- or _Splinch_ \- usually survive because they end up trapped in a sort of time exemption for a short while.”  Sirius chipped in with a roguish grin.  “When I was an Auror it was always interesting responding to those scenes, if a bit macabre.”

Augusta sniffed disapprovingly at the crass comment but added.  “ _Splinching_ definitely has its own drawbacks.  The wounds are notoriously tricky to heal, though the mishap has a high survival rate overall.  I believe the phrase is ‘once bitten, twice shy’; survival does not equate painless, after all.  Even in my day the Ministry was quite fond of casually mentioning the ghastly consequences of _Splinching_ , and I believe they did that to prevent people from wishing to perfect the skill.  Perfected _Apparition_ is nigh untraceable, after all.” 

“At any rate, the ban comes into play because we don’t want _Apparition’s_ little disturbances to affect our testing of this world’s modes of transportation- or at least, all of the ones we have found in the Library or the elves brought back in books or scrolls from Stormwind.”  Remus concluded with a small sigh.  “Augusta and Hermione have been able to use this world’s ‘mana’ and practice with this world’s magic.”

“It’s very strange.”  Hermione told the boys as she waved her fork around for emphasis.  “Gran says that she thinks arcane energy might have the same sort of addictive quality as dark magic back on Earth.”

“That’s not to say that the spells or magic are dark.”  Augusta hurried to add at Sirius’ dark expression.  “However I can see how someone who wished to do harm and cared only for power could easily become corrupted by the energy’s potency.”

“I see.”  Sirius hummed contemplatively as he stared darkly at his food for a moment.  “Occlumency?”  He directed towards Remus and Augusta after a long moment of rather tense silence.

“Occlumency.”  They both agreed firmly.

“I shall begin teaching the children once we finish securing the tower.”  Augusta stated firmly, causing the tension to drain out of Sirius’ previous stiff shoulders.  “I imagine that the boys will be able to use at least a little of Azeroth’s mana, so they will be learning as well.”

The kids shrugged gamely, thankful that the tense moment had passed.

“At any rate.”  Hermione bravely piped up a few minutes later.  “I managed to make a portal inside one of the guest’s chambers that successfully connected to the Entry Hall.  Well, thus far we have only used inanimate objects but those have done alright.”  Hermione paused for a moment before adding.  “Remus, although he hasn’t had any luck with pure arcane energy that is used by so-called ‘mages’ has had some luck with some hybrid energy.”

“Azeroth would classify the energy and spells I have been able to use as that of a Cleric- or a Priest- but also that of a Paladin Knight.”

“Sounds like Moony already.”  Sirius said with a grin.  “He’s the most ‘knightly’ person I’ve ever met.  Honor codes, helping the weak- except for Snivellius, may he face justice for his treachery- and all that.  Sounds like our Moony.”

Remus rolled his eyes expressively but he smiled all the same.  “There really isn’t all much information on Paladin Knights in the Library unless you know where to look, but the elves brought back some history books and scrolls.”  Remus’ ear burned a bit red as he admitted.  “I’m rather taken with the stories of General Turalyon and Tirion Fording. The Library has a lot of speculation on their abilities, but without the additional sources I never would have been able to put it all together.”  Remus seemed to wilt a little.  “I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to be a Paladin Knight for real but something about the Light fascinates me.”

“Hm.  Well, perhaps it has something to do with our original dream.”  Sirius mused thoughtfully.  “There’s also those druid types, too.  Shapeshifters who can also heal.”

Given the way the Spirits of the Titans had impressed the need for secrecy it had been decreed that they would not speak of their ‘original dream’ until after the tower was well and truly secured.  Augusta had not had the dream but given the scarcity of information on the Titans themselves and the way it had been impressed upon them that their situation had been entirely unique Sirius had sworn to tell her about the dream, but only after they were truly assured that their security measures would hold.

“At any rate.”  Augusta said primly as she set her spoon down with an air of finality.  “The children shall all be taught Occlumency once the tower has been secured.  We cannot do our new world- and our second chances- justice if we are unable fight when necessary.”

“Hear, hear!”  Sirius cheered as he raised his goblet in a toast before taking a long pull of his drink.  “To being the architects of our own destiny.”

“Hear, hear!”  The others chorused with feeling.

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―――

Now that the tower was essentially free of interlopers- and structurally repaired- the House Elves were gleefully and thoroughly scrubbing the place clean.   

Given how clumsily inept Expedition members had been when helping Ma out, the members of the Assault Team were spending their early-to-mid-mornings with Fitz in the Livery or with Topsy in the Greenhouses.  Not only out of a lack of anything else to really do now that winter had set in but also to learn useful skills during the downtime.

Besides there was _plenty_ of work to spread around. 

The Research Team was knee deep in experiments as they tried to do finalize how to secure the tower to everyone’s satisfaction.  Thus far the Research Team had confirmed that House Elf magic and the arcane energy seemed to blend together- well they existed around one another peaceably, at least- but spells and charms would not hold together very long without some creative tinkering.  This meant that they had to get imaginative if they wanted to get their _Fidelius_ -flavored Wards in place.

And they did want to get those Wards in place.  There were _zombies_ on this world, for Merlin’s sake!

The tower needed to be decorated but none of the Assault Team were particularly inclined towards tackling that job.  They could follow instructions quite well but decorating a room from scratch was sort of beyond their purview. 

Everyone was still staying in the tents at the moment as well, because the tower was not yet secure, so there were not even any individual rooms to personalize just yet.

Due to that snag Neville had more or less sort of been absorbed into the Research Team as the greenhouse guru, taking samples and comparing plants grown in different soils and such.

This sort of left Harry and Sirius as the odd men out.  They assisted the Research Team where they could- and did a fair amount of their own studying and such- but both of them were inclined towards what Hermione called ‘kinetic learning’ than pure theory.

“Ugh.”  Harry groaned as he tried to wake up properly.  “Why is life so _hard_?”  He whined rather rhetorically.

“It could be worse.”  Sirius chipped in cheerily as he tipped his chair back on two legs and sipped his tea rather sagely.  “We could be stuck here with Snivellus!”

Harry’s cup stopped halfway to his mouth as he stared at Sirius is disbelief.  “Really?  _That’s_ your selling point?”

Sirius affected a cheery smile.  “Just trying to help!”

“Whatever, Dogfather.”  Harry snorted as he sipped at his tea.  A companionable silence settled between the two of them.  “Hey, Sirius?”  Harry asked a few minutes later, sounding hesitant.

“Yeah pup?”  Sirius replied as polished off his tea and focused on his Godson.

Harry’s brows furrowed as he tried to think of what he wanted to say.  Eventually he settled on.  “Is it wrong to not miss the people we left behind?”  He hurried to clarify at Sirius’ confused expression.  “I mean it’s not that I don’t miss them _at all_ it’s just-“  Harry’s hands fluttered as he tried to put his feelings into words.  “I’m just…… _happier_ here.  With you and Gran and Nev and Hermione- and I can’t forget all the elves like Dobby,  Kreacher, Winky, and Fitz and so on.”  Harry turned worried green eyes on his Godfather.  “Is that wrong?”

Sirius was silent for a moment.  “I don’t think it is wrong, pup.”  He said after a long moment.  “I’m sad that there wasn’t all that much for you to miss about your old life, maybe- but I’m glad you are happy.”

“Are you?”

Sirius opened his mouth to respond, but one of the Caterwauling Charms they’d set up just passed the edge of the Tower protective enchantments blared.

“Grab my arm.  We need to get to the War Room.”  Sirius told Harry sternly, and Harry grabbed his arm obediently despite the _Apparition_ ban.

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Once they’d reached the War Room Sirius began to read off what his spells were telling him from the charmed parchment.  “Remind me to find a way to make this thing give me a visual readout with pictures instead of words.”  Sirius commented tersely as he tried to make sense of the information.

A few seconds later everyone else popped in along with Kreacher and Dobby.

“What’s going on?”  Augusta asked sharply as she took her seat at the round table they had dug out especially for the War Room’s use and prepared to take notes, everyone but Sirius scurrying to copy her.

“I can’t tell just yet.”  Sirius grunted distractedly as he waved his wand a few times.  The alarm shut off and duplicate parchment began to appear in front of Augusta and Remus, both of whom quickly snatched it up and began to read.

“It’s coming from the side of the tower that is bordered by that jungle.”  Sirius finally divined as he read through the spell information, his brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to make sense of the near-gibberish.

“Oh noes!”  Dobby piped up, his ears drooping in distress.  “That bes the side of the tower with the nasty trollsies!”

“Those….those….Gurubashi fellows?”  Remus asked distractedly as he scribbled down notes on a clean sheet of paper.

“Yessir!”  Dobby answered, hopping from foot to foot as he bounced in place.  “They are being practicing nasty feeling magics, so we is not beings staying there longs.  We dos have maps, though.”

Mentally translating Dobby-speak had grown easier as the little elf’s English improved, but when the little guy grew agitated his speech regressed a bit.

“Alright, so what are they doing, then?”  Sirius muttered rather tensely.

“Black magic.”  Augusta pronounced solemnly.  “Something akin to necromancy, only even darker.”

Even Hermione cursed at that pronouncement.

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞―≡―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―◊―――

A week and a few days later everyone stood in the Entrance Hall, armed for battle.

Well, everyone plus Dobby and several of his ‘Rangers’.  The little elves were all outfitted in leather and their backs or hips were adored with daggers procured from the Earth luggage.  Granted the daggers seemed more akin to swords on the little beings but they looked endearingly dangerous.

“Hermione, dear, are you certain that you won’t wear something other than cloth?”  Augusta fretted as everyone double checked their gear.

“I _can’t_ , Gran.”  Hermione replied patiently as she checked her own supplies.  “Wearing animal skins disrupts the arcane energy; too much metal armor runs the risk of my spells latching into my armor and backfiring on me.”

“Well, if you’re certain.”  Augusta fussed rather worriedly as she tightened the fastenings of her dragonhide armor. 

The elder woman had utterly refused to entertain any notions of her staying behind-  _“I’m old, not incompetent, Sirius Black!  And if any of the rest of you attempt to argue I’ll show you what fifteen years as an active duty Hit Witch coupled with several more decades of battling smarmy politicians looks like!  Minnie McGonagall was my protégé, not the other way around!”_ \- was decked out in smart outfit made entirely of dragonhide.

“Yes, well.  After we get the tower secured I think I’m going to sign up for that three week Adventurer’s Course that the Stormwind Army offers.”   Sirius- who had some experience with sword play thanks to his upbringing and was decked out in a mix of dragonhide and mail along with a sword and shield- added rather disgruntledly.

“That’s the one where they will train you up a bit in return for helping them out, right?”  Harry asked as he tightened his wand holster and made sure his enchanted quiver was firmly in place and that his bow- which shrank down into a bracelet- was firmly attached to his left wrist.

“Yes.”  Sirius grunted irritably as he checked all his buckles and straps.

Heirloom armor was nice but seemed to have far more buckles and straps than even remotely necessary.

“Yes, well.”  Remus input with a grin from beside Neville.  Both of them were decked out in leather armor and sported staves on their backs.  Remus had sort of learned how to wield one during the three years he spent traveling around and performing in various fairs.  After it had become patently obvious that the young Longbottom had no talent with a bow, Remus had stepped in to tutor him in the ways of a staff. 

“We’ll have to survive this little excursion first.” Neville grunted rather darkly, not at all comfortable with his weeks’ worth of ‘alternate weapon training’.

“And that will be all from the peanut gallery.”  Sirius announced decisively as he picked up the _Portkey_ that would take them to the little sheltered clearing about a half mile away from the entrance to the place they were getting ready to storm.

“Remember.”  Augusta added sternly as they all gathered around the Portkey.  “We are not doing this out of hate and there will be time to contemplate your actions later.  These people are practicing Black Arts and are threatening to poison the leylines under our home.”

“Aggie is correct.”  Sirius affirmed as he fixed each teen with a firm look.  “I realize that seeing the history of wars and experiencing one is different- but these people are threatening our home.  Not to mention practicing magic so dark that it makes Voldemort seem like Dumbledore by comparison.  Understood?”

“Understood.”  The teens replied resolutely, even as their stomachs lurched with fear.

“Good.”  Sirius said, offering a small smile before stating the activation phrase.  “ _Karazhan_.”

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞―≡―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―◊―――

“Nice shot, pup!”  Sirius called as Harry felled another with a well-placed arrow.  “You’re a freaking natural with that thing!”

“If I ever see another bloody bat it will be all too soon!”  Harry called back from his spot; perched precariously on top of some sort of totem.

“Sirius, behind you!”  Hermione shouted as she hurled a frostbolt towards the new arrival.

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―――

The battle was fierce but they managed.

Hermione alternated between using Azerothian frost spells and her wand.  Harry- still above them- used the heirloom, magic-conducting bow to his advantage as he fired arrows packed with Patronus-like energy, something he had been working on for the past week.  Neville and Remus mostly stayed back and provided cover for Sirius, who tried to keep the troll’s focus on him as he taunted her verbally and whacked her with his shield and sword.  Augusta, meanwhile, used healing spells to keep everyone in decent condition and provided Sirius with small breaks as she slipped in and out of the troll’s focus.  On several occasions the older woman was forced to step back and deal with an especially powerful spells, redirecting the energy away from everyone and grounding it.  Dobby and his Rangers popped everywhere and struck the troll from behind as well as helping Harry deal with any allies she called into existence.

Then she had transformed herself turned into a giant bat.

_That_ had been interesting.

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―――

“Well, we did it.”  Remus gasped as he knelt down and tried to catch his breath, his bangs plastered to his reddened face as he did so.

“Barely.”  Sirius huffed as he gestured for the others to take a quick break.  As soon as he had his breath back he gestured towards Dobby and soon everyone was pouring over the map Dobby and his Rangers had made of the place.

“How many more of those are there?”  Hermione moaned rather tiredly as she ate some food to replenish her strength. 

“My arm is sore, even with the potions I took and all the practice I’ve had this week.”  Harry agreed just as tiredly as he, too, gulped down some food and drink to try and recover.

“At least our strategy seems to be working and Remus has not had to try and pull our spirits back to our body before we disperse into ether.”  Neville pointed out with a wry grin.

“Touché.”  Hermione muttered with a small grin, proud of herself despite her exhaustion.  Arcane magic was no joke and keeping her attacks balanced to compensate for her rather small mana pool- which was how Azeroth measured arcane ability, much like ‘core strength’ or ‘core index points’ were thought of back on Earth- took a great deal of focus.

“Yes.”  Remus drawled with his own small grin.  “Let’s not try to test that theory just yet.  I have no idea just how much the Light likes me.”

“Ok, from what the Rangers have gathered we have to take out these ‘High Priest’ guys before we can get to the actual big, bad guy down at the very bottom of this place.”  Sirius interjected after he and Augusta finished murmuring quietly to each other.  “At least that’s what we’re going to do because the elves feel a bond between these priest jerks and Mr. Big Bad Wolf.”

“There are four more High Priests and then- as Sirius termed him- ‘Mr. Big Bad Wolf’.”  Augusta announced wearily.  “Unfortunately there are also a number of Acolytes as well as four other major players for us to fully clear this place and cleanse it.”  The woman turned to look at the teens.  “How are you three holding up?”

“I think I’m still sort of high off of adrenaline.”  Hermione said rather contemplatively as she stashed her things and rolled to her feet.  “And I’m very much _not_ thinking about the piles of ick that are all around us, but I just…..”

“She felt wrong to me.”  Neville added as Hermione trailed off.  “Not because she was a troll, but because it seemed as if she was someone who was, I dunno, enslaved.”  Neville looked extremely uncomfortable for a moment.  “It almost reminded me of Fake-Moody and the _Imperio_ _Curse_.”

“Agreed.”  Harry mentioned with a grimace as he, too, stashed his supplies and stood.  “There was something seriously off about her and I doubt it was her race.  I think something really twisted happened here.”

“Well, that’s why we’re here and why we’re going to cleanse this place the old fashioned way.”  Sirius replied as he climbed to his feet and then turned to give Augusta a hand up as well.  “With _fire_.”

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―――

After battling through the rest of the High Priests- who had fondnesses for panthers, tigers, spiders, and snakes, respectively- as well as taking out the pseudo-lieutenants of the place, they finally arrived at the place of the source of the corruption and the cause of the alarms at Karazhan.

Hakkar the Soulflayer.

‘Loa of Blood’, the ‘Blood God’, as well as several other things he liked to call himself.

At that point everyone was so exhausted they were running on their third doses of Pepper Up Potions and therefore relatively immune to the primal fear of the darkly impressive being.

“I just want to purge this place and go _home_.”  Hermione grumbled viciously as she readied her most concentrated bolt of frost yet and hurled it at the being just as Sirius got fed up with the bastard’s grandstanding and charged him. 

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―――

Harry allowed his bow to return to his bracelet form as his wand dropped into his hand.  His face was sweaty and dirty and there were deep purple bruises underneath his eyes.

Not too different from everyone else, really.

Harry glanced around at the tired, nearly broken forms of his friends- his family.  For that was what they were at this point, family.  Tossed together into this crazy new world and just trying to make a home together.

And this fiend had dared to taint that with magic so dark it made Walburga Black’s favorite artifacts seem like sunshine with a side of rainbows. 

Suddenly Harry understood that if they failed here their fates would be the same as those High Priests.

_They would be slaves._

“No.”  Harry whispered fiercely as he watched Sirius fall to his knees, Remus rushing forward to try to keep the fiend’s focus off of the exhausted Augusta.  Hermione and Neville were back to back fighting desperately against the strange allies the Soulflayer had called to his aid.

Hermione slipped in a puddle of ick and went down.  The popping of the House Elves slowed to nearly nothing as the little beings’ skin turned grey even as they continued to try to help.

Something within Harry snapped.

“ _Expecto Patronum_!”  Harry bellowed as power- primal and ancient in addition to his normal magic- rushed from his core, down his arm, and exploded into a brilliant stag made of pure white, shimmery light just beyond the tip of his wand. 

Unlike his normal Prongs this stag was much larger.  The animal’s impressive, thick, tree-like horns held a radiant orb of swirling light and dense stripes of glowing purple decorated the stag’s iridescent fur.   Strips of leaf-green decorated the stag’s back set of legs, just above the hooves.  On the right foreleg there was a bright purple set of butterfly wings that flapped steadily, leaving shimmering trails in the wake of each flutter.

What really caught Harry’s attention were the eyes.  Brilliant, vivid blue eyes that seemed to exude peace and ferocity at the same time; those intense eyes were fixed unerringly on the Soulflayer.

For a suspended moment everything was entirely, eerily still.

Then the stag lowered its head and pawed at the ground before springing into action.  In a single bound the stag seemed to teleport to the Soulflayer, goring the fiend with one of its impressive horns and pushing the Soulflayer back.

The tired fighters, buoyed by a heady sense of hope, struggled back to their feet and pushed forward.

Harry kept his resolve firmed, mentally holding his _Patronus_ in place as he dug out his bow.  Harry winced as he drew back the drawstring but he pushed through the pain, despite his quivering muscles.  The young Potter held his shot until after the stag managed to rip off the armor that covered the fiend’s torso, leaving his heart vulnerable.

‘ _Now, young one_.’  A deep voice that reverberated with power whispered inside Harry’s mind; the echoes full of valor and light and everything good.

Harry loosed his glowing arrow.

It struck true.

The stag reared back and roared in victory before it shattered into a million tiny lights, purifying whatever the shards touched.

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞―≡―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―◊―――

Harry’s eyes suddenly snapped open to find Hermione’s teary brown eyes hovering above him.  His friend’s face was smeared with who-knew-what and her eyes were red-rimmed but she seemed otherwise unhurt.

“Harry!”  Hermione exclaimed as she wrapped her friend in a brief tight hug before helping him sit up.

“Wh-wh-“  His voice cracked so Harry accepted the water Hermione raised to his lips before he tried again.  “What happened?

“You summoned your- well, we’re not sure what that was, exactly- and then your arrow hit the Soulflayer _bastard_ in the heart.”  Harry was a bit surprised by the venom in Hermione’s voice- as well as the cursing- but did not dare to interrupt her flood of words.  “Then you passed out, but you were still breathing, so we figured that you were okay.”  Hermione paused for a breath as she helped him struggle to his feet.  “Dobby went and got a few of the other House Elves to help grab anything that might be important- we’re going to quarantine them in one of the houses outside the tower for now- while Sirius and everyone else we to set the charges.  Well, Sirius and Neville went to set the charges while Remus and Gran went to set the wardstones for the Outer Wards.”

Harry gave her his best confused look which caused Hermione to huff a fondly exasperated laugh before she wrapped one of her arms around his waist and helped him walk.

“This is a really old temple and the magical fire we are using- it is sort of a fusion between Fiendfyre and Phoenix Fire, using Phoenix Ash as a catalyst- anyways, it’s going to burn this whole place down.  The Phoenix contributions should keep it from losing too much mass overall, but this whole area will likely sink a great deal.  This whole area is in a large valley anyways, so it should not matter overly much- it’s not like we’re right beside the sea.  But, at any rate, the heat of the fire should mean that the Outer Wards for this side will be nigh unassailable.”

“’Nigh unassailable’ she says.”  Harry parroted cheekily, causing his friend to laugh.  “So, we’re not going to burn down the whole jungle, are we?”

Hermione shook her head negatively.  “No.  In all of our tests the Containment Ward held, so it’ll just be the area inside of it.”

“Well, hopefully it’ll keep anything like this from happening again.”  Harry muttered as he hobbled along beside her.  “I say that if we ever do this again, we bring marshmallows.”

“Agreed.”  Hermione laughed rather wetly.

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―――

“Well, that’s one heck of a fire.”  Sirius commented rather inanely as they watched the inferno blaze from atop a nearby hill- well, small mountain really- outside of the burn radius.

The fire was full of incandescent flickers of Fiendfyre green that were tempered by the glimmers of orangey red from the Phoenix ingredients.

It was devastatingly beautiful.  Bittersweet and sad even as it was grateful and exultant.

The ending of an age and the birth of a new one.

“Hopefully whatever grows from the ashes will be as bright as Zul’Gurub was dark.”  Augusta commented somewhat wistfully. “This truly was a beautiful valley.  I really do hope that the seeds we left behind will breathe new life into this place and allow it to become a home.”

“Aa.”  Sirius hummed affirmatively as his eyes tracked the inferno for a bit longer.  After a long moment he opened his pack and dug out the return Portkey.  “The House Elves will keep a watch on this place, but it will burn anywhere from a week to a month.  We might as well head back and rest.”

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞―≡―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―◊―――

The Rebirth Inferno- as the Research Team had christened it- burned for twenty seven days, sixteen hours, and fifty two minutes.

Dobby and his Rangers- once they had recovered- had been piling the top of the Containment Ward with snow, ice, and water.  Therefore once the Ward fell the whole burned out valley was flooded.  The Rangers then spent the next month or so taking treated soil- from Neville and the greenhouse crew- and filling in the barren landscape to help build up the land. 

The Rangers and the Greenhouse Elves even reconstructed the former lakes.

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞―≡―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―◊―――

The first few weeks after the assault on Zul’Gurub was fairly tough on all of the humans.

Nightmares, insomnia, and even a few impassioned rows broke out among the teens, but with the patient guidance of the adults the teens made it through the dark weeks stronger and even closer than before.

Hermione was never going to live down her ‘pubescent fueled macho stupidity’ comment though.

Not _ever_.

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞―≡―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―◊―――

Winter was fairly short- or at least it seemed to be. 

Or perhaps that was due to the fact that sixteen weeks after the Expedition to Stormwind had returned there was the new and exciting experience of having to try to reroute all of the snow melt running off the mountains.  A rather chaotic situation that caused the residents of Karazhan no small amount of headaches.

“Well, that was interesting.”  Harry sighed wearily as he lay face-down on one of the plush rugs that Augusta had had placed in the Entrance Hall.

The final preparations for the Wards had been finalized about a week prior to the Snow Melt Crisis, and so some of the areas of the tower were partially decorated.  Well, decorating only happened in the afternoons- after chores, Occlumency practice, and whatever weapon’s or endurance training the adults could cobble together- so it took quite a while for Augusta to be satisfied with even a single room.

“Ughn.”  Neville groaned gloomily somewhere to Harry’s left, his voice muffled as his he had not bothered to even turn his head to speak.

“Oh, come one you babies.”  Hermione teased gently from Harry’s right.  The young woman was seated on her bum, using her elbows for support as she eyed the boys.  “It was only a _moderate_ crisis.”

“So says the woman who spent half the time staring at the already-finished blueprints while we did all the heavy lifting.”  Harry stage-whispered to Neville; only to groan miserably when Hermione poked him in the ribs none-too-gently.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  Hermione sniffed superiorly as she hauled herself to her feet and dusted off her thighs primly.

“Uh-huh.  _Sure_.”  Harry muttered mutinously.

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞―≡―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―◊―――

With a final crackle the _Fidelius-based Ward_ snapped into place, the finality of Karazhan’s security lifting a heavy weight from the shoulders of her inhabitants.

Augusta and Hermione _Apparated_  into the Secret Room with victorious grins painted on their faces, followed closely by the jubilant Sirius and Remus.

“It worked!”  Hermione nearly shrieked in delight as she threw herself at Harry, hugging him tightly for a long moment before she released him and pounced on the amused Neville.  “It _worked_!”

“Indeed, my dear.”  Augusta affirmed warmly, a bit more dignified but no less excited than the young woman.

“It worked!”  Sirius shouted gleefully as he twirled the laughing Hermione around excitedly before he set her back on her feet and gave her a wet, loud kiss on the cheek.  “You Research types are geniuses!”

“Everyone heard that, right?”  Remus drawled rather smugly.

Sirius turned and maturely stuck his tongue out at Remus before turning back to the purpose of the room.

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―――

The Secret Room was inside the hidden room that had once housed the Shade of the man named Aran.  Well, they had redone the room and the Secret Room was sequestered behind the false wall they had made out of book cases. 

The protection of the secret was trifold. 

Stage one was the stairwell itself.  The chess game from that one room had been transplanted to the stairwell and the way a person played their way across the board determined which version of the room they entered. 

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―――

“There’s a bypass for those of us who already know the secret, right?”  Harry had asked hopefully as he glared at the chessboard with no little amount of distaste.

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―――

The different versions were based on _Muggle-Repelling Charms_ and _Concealment Wards_ in how those not keyed into the wards would see only rubble.  It had taken the Research Team weeks to weave them together seamlessly and also stand up to arcane energy spells.

The ‘standard version’ was of a room filled with junk, some gold heirlooms, and a few books that were actually worthless but held flowery language and vague ideas.

Enough to seem as if the room had been used for storage or just generally forgotten about.

The _actual_ room was filled the original versions of some of the rarer books in the Library, along with books from the Potter, Black, or Longbottom Libraries that were especially rare or destructive.  The bookcases neatly fitted together so that they covered every square inch of the stone walls and there were a couple of desks equipped with parchment, inks, and quills.  The light of the room was provided thanks to the decoration of the ceiling, which mimicked the glass dome of a church.

Therein lay the second layer of protection.  The solid appearance of a room with no secrets beyond the first layer of protection.  The stone was thick and the bookcases firmly mounted to the wall.

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―――

“There will be no cliché book that opens the door.”  Hermione had declared firmly, breaking out her collection of nonmagical fiction to use for inspiration- and pointing out the dangers of using clichés.

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―――

No, to enter the Secret Room one had to be told of the secret of Maiden. 

_The Maiden of Virtue once guarded the Observatory._

Once the secret was spoken aloud the pieces of the Maiden of Virtue that had been fused together to make the glass-like ceiling of the room would flash brightly before the leftmost bookcase on the back wall would part in a very Diagon Alley Leaky Cauldron Entrance manner.

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―――

“Minnie and I helped with the Transfiguration maintenance on the one back home.”  Augusta had explained to the curious Remus and Hermione.  “We were the only two who really knew how- besides Dumbledore, but he was dreadfully busy- so we received the privilege of tinkering with it once a year or so.”

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―――

The Secret Room was the same size as the room in front but far more spartan.  Stone benches lined the wall and the newly designed crest of their family sat proudly in the center of the navy blue tapestry that dominated the back wall, suspended in place by braided silver ropes.  Just below the tapestry was the Secret of Karazhan, etched onto a stone that was linked to the Secret of the Maiden.

_The Tower of Karazhan is home for the lost children who passed through Death’s Veil._

“Winky and her helpers really outdid themselves on making this thing.”  Sirius whistled as he inspected the intricately woven tapestry.

“Very much so.”  Augusta commented as she inspected the tapestry far more closely.  “Oh.”  She said in mild surprise.  “They even wove the silver out of real silver threads.  Excellent.”

“I really like it.”  Hermione commented as she, too, stepped closer and inspected the tapestry.

The tapestry held a rearing stag- much like the one Harry had conjured during that excursion to Zul’Gurub- complete with the radiant blue eyes, iridescent purple markings, shining orb nestled among the horns, and the butterfly wings on the foreleg.  In Latin, on a purple ribbon written in silver thread was their code: _Non est ad astra mollis e terris via Non est ad astra mollis e terris via**._  

“There is no easy way from the earth to the stars.”  Harry said aloud, a bit amused at the rather strange phrase.

“It’s important to remember.”  Augusta informed him sternly, turning from the tapestry to eye him seriously.  “We are quite blessed to know what we know- to be privy to the secrets we have been charged to keep.  However, no amount of magic or energy or trickery is worth forgetting how it feels to be powerless.”

“Aggie’s right.”  Sirius said as he, too, turned towards his Godson.  “Having power can make you forget; can make you proud and self-righteous.”  Sirius sat down on one of the stone benches and levelled all the teens with a solemn stare.  “When I was in school- at Hogwarts- I did not fully appreciate that fact.”  Sirius’ lips twitched up into a humorless smile.  “Pride goes before a fall.  Remember that, always.”

“Confidence is one thing.”  Remus hurried to add, trying to salvage the previously joyous atmosphere.  “But being vainglorious- that is to be excessively proud, to the point of being so self-deluded that you feel that your actions are beyond reproach simply because you are doing what is ‘right’ or ‘necessary’- is a treacherous slippery slope.”

“Moony’s right.”  Sirius agreed as he bounced to his feet and cheerfully subjected his Godson to a noogie.  “But so long as we old folks are around, we’ll help keep you whippersnappers in your places.”

“You mean Moony and Gran, right old man?”  Neville muttered in a stage whisper, only to yelp as Sirius subjected him to the Sirius Black Special Brat Noogie Number Four.

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞―≡―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―◊―――

Tirion Fording stared into the fire that crackled away merrily in his humble home along the Thondroril River, contemplating Thrall’s latest missive.

Despite being the Warchief of the new Horde Thrall made it a point to send Tirion missives; keeping him updated on the major news.  Tirion was grateful for it, as he was fairly cut off from information that was not local to the area.

“ _Throm'ka, brother._

_I hope this letter finds you well and once again I extend an invitation for you to join me in Orgrimmar._

_You are forever welcome in my city, brother._

_Eitrigg is as cantankerous and contrary as usual, but he sends his regards._

_There has been a development that has caused quite a stir for the Cenarion Circle and the Darkspear trolls- Vol’jin’s people- among several others.  While not directly invested in such things the Night Elf Druids brought news from their allies in the Green Dragonflight to sympathetic ears within the Circle.  Their reports reached me just a day before Vol’jin himself came to see me here in Orgrimmar._

_Apparently the Gurubashi stronghold of Zul’Gurub has fallen._

_Not only fallen, brother, but land itself has somehow been cleansed.  I only have a few reports as of yet, but the taint of the Blood God of the Gurubashi has been eradicated from the land on which Zul’Gurub once stood.  We do not know how or why but grass is growing and trees are sprouting in the basin; pure and entirely untouched by the dark taint of the Atal’ai._

_Brother, Vol’jin and Carine came across a small animal that looked nearly like a Goblin, only with bleached skin and slightly more humanoid features.  It was apparently tending the soil and encouraging some trees and flora to grow.  The small being somehow teleported away before they could question them, but they heard the thing mention a ‘Master Harry’._

_At first I suspected the humans- as I know that ‘Harry’ is a human name- but the Alliance are just as confused about this situation as we are._

_They also report that Deadwind Pass has recently lightened considerably, allowing for it to be used freely.  The spiders and other monstrosities that used to attack travelers without mercy have mysteriously vanished.  More than that, life has seeped back into the valley.  The Pass has flowering trees now, brother, as if it is an extension of the Elwynn Forest and yet the humans do not know why either._

_I have no memory of why the Pass is significant- beyond being concerned that the Alliance has gained a powerful new boon in that Nethergarde Keep in the blasted Lands can now be easily resupplied- but I somehow believe that whoever is behind this turn of events could be the key to saving your son from those Scarlet Crusade zealots._

_I cannot explain why or how, but my heart urges me to counsel you to seek out those behind these changes._

_Make of that what you will, brother._

_Lok'Tar Ogar,_

_Thrall, Warchief of the Horde_ ”

Tirion’s eyes traced the words for the nth time since the Horde messenger bird had dropped the message off.

Did he dare hope that Taelan’s salvation could be at hand?  The Light had not yet deserted him, even after Uther had performed the Ceremony and he had been condemned to exile after his trial in Stratholme.

Tirion sighed heavily and rose, his feet leading him out to faithful Miridor’s stall.

Eventually his faithful friend was as well-groomed as a horse could possibly be and Tirion’s hands were once again idle.

With one last look at the lightening horizon, Tirion turned back towards his humble home.

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Sirius had been gleefully declared their leader when the tower had been fully secured and they officially formed their Order, Augusta included.

As the one that Topsy had reported to about Toppy’s- one of Topsy’s Garden Elves- about the near miss with the people who had come to inspect the former site of the Gurubashi trolls, he had chosen to keep the information quiet.  Sirius had ordered the elves to not go back to the area, though Dobby and his Rangers were given tentative permission to investigate.

Sirius had chosen to not mention the near-miss because spring meant the plants being excited- which meant extra-long hours in the greenhouses- not to mention that all of the animals in the Livery were suddenly struck with the need to reproduce.

With Karazhan finally secure there was also the task of making the tower home; something which Augusta had taken to with great relish.  Using decorating tasks as Occlumency exercises in order to slip in more decorating time. 

No one dared to call her on that fiction.

They valued their lives, _thank you very much_.

They also had finally moved out of the tents and into the rooms that they had prepared along one of the side halls of what the original Guardian had called the ‘Menagerie’.  The rooms had not originally been meant for bedrooms, but with some space altering charms work they were spacious and quite comfortable.

The near proximity to the Library was also nice and with the main hallway along the ‘Menagerie’ still being empty there were plenty of study and project rooms to go around. 

Being so far away from the kitchens had been an issue they had debated pretty fiercely- as no one wanted to create more work for the wonderful, irreplaceable elves.  That argument was settled when Winky had popped in with a snack and tossed out an exasperated- _“Hows do yous think the elves of Hogwarts be serving their foods from down in the basements?”-_ and the humans had felt rather stupid.

Still, all of the chores along with making the tower a home had made the last bit of time before their one year anniversary fly by pretty quickly.

The chaotic bustling made it all the easier for Sirius to slip out mostly unnoticed when the Outer Wards lightly rebuffed someone who had slipped by the Compulsion Wards on the Pass. 

They had set up the Compulsion Wards on top of the tower’s already impressive protections as the Pass ended up being used quite a bit more than they had originally planned for based on last year’s extremely low traffic.   

Whoever was out there right now, though, was systematically looking for a weak point, which meant the extensive repertoire of compulsions woven into the Wards had at least partially failed.

Given the extensiveness of the Wards and their layers of compulsions, that meant whoever it was out there was looking for them, not just passing through.

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Tirion’s first impression of the dark-haired man who came out to meet him was of a veteran.  The man looked rather young in that he did not possess an abundance of wrinkles or have grey sprouting at his temples.  His steps were measured but still rough, so not a fully trained warrior.

But his eyes……

“Greetings.”  Tirion greeted neutrally as the man stopped a few paces away from him and eyed him in turn.  “I am Tirion Fordring, may I speak with you?”

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―――

Sirius’ knee-jerk reaction was so scream ‘no’ and memory charm the man.

A slightly darker part of himself whispered that _dead men tell no tales_ , but he ruthlessly pushed that thought aside.

To stall for time Sirius sent out his magic to lightly brush up against the man- a trick taught to many Pureblood children.

What he found nearly made his knees buckle.

_Valor.  Honor.  Kindness. Resolve.  Grief.  Pride.  Relentless.  Lonely.  Bravery.  Courage.  Light, the kind that shines brightest in the darkest part of the night._

_‘To not hear him out would be a travesty.’_   Sirius thought reluctantly as he firmly quashed his fears and hardened his resolve.  “I am Sirius Black.  Be welcome here, Tirion Fordring.”

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―――

The strongest, purest magic he had ever felt washed over him and suddenly Tirion could see the explosion of green that separated him from the proud tower in the distance.

“I feel as if I should know that tower.”  Tirion murmured as he gently guided Miridor along the narrower walkways that led from the wide, worn stone of the Pass.

“Perhaps.”  Black replied enigmatically as he led the walk, noticeably staying on the opposite side of Miridor’s body and therefore out of Tirion’s immediate reach.

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―――

“Dobby.”  Sirius called just as they came around the final bend that would lead to the tower’s front door.  The walk had been somewhat tense, but not overly much.

The little elf popped in and sort of goggled at the visitors.  “Yes, Master Sirius?”

“Please inform the others that we have a welcomed guest.”  Sirius hesitated and flicked a quick glance towards Fordring before he added.  “Also, please inform Winky that we’ll like lunch a bit earlier than usual today.  Lastly please let Fitz know he has a new guest for the Livery.”

“I have no wish to impose-“

“It’s no trouble.” Sirius waved away the man’s protests unconcernedly as Dobby popped away.

By the time they reached the door to the tower Augusta and Fitz were waiting.

“May I present Master Tirion Fordring.”  Sirius said somewhat grandly, only for the man to release a short burst of laughter.

“Just Tirion is fine, Master Black.”  Tirion drawled dryly.

“Ah, then you must call me Sirius-“

“Sirius Black if you made that awful play on your name in the presence of company I _will_ take you over my knee.”  Augusta snapped without much heat, her lips twitching suspiciously. 

Tirion threw his head back and _laughed_ ; the pleasant sound cheerily ringing through the air and rebounding joyfully off the stones.

Augusta’s smile grew warmer as her eyes met Sirius’ and she gave him a barely noticeable nod. 

“Shall Fitz be taking Guest Tirion’s horse to the Livery now, Lady Gus?”

Augusta nodded at the faithful elf and smiled reassuringly at the hesitant Tirion.  “Rest assured that your lovely horse will be safe in Fitz’s excellent care.”  Augusta stepped back and waved her hand at the door of Karazhan.  “I am Augusta Longbottom, you may call me Madam Augusta.  Be welcome here, Tirion Fordring.”

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―――

Augusta kept the chatter light as she led them inside and up the two sets of staircases in the Entrance Hall and then turned to lead the party to the Dining Hall.

“Would you prefer to dine at the table on the dais in here or at one of the smaller tables in the Balcony area, Master Fordring?”  Augusta had given the man a moment to appreciate the newly decorated and much more homely Dining Hall before she posed her question.

“The Balcony if you do not mind, Lady Augusta.”  Tirion requested humbly.

“An excellent choice, Master Fordring.”  Augusta replied approvingly.  She called Kreacher and informed him of the plans before she gestured the party forward.  “Come along now and I will show you to your room for time being and then we will allow you some time to freshen up before lunch.”

“I really do not wish to impose-“  Tirion tried to interject.

“I will not have you camping in a tent when we have perfectly suitable rooms for you to use, Master Fordring.”  Augusta rebuffed the man firmly but kindly.  “I know not why you are here, but I can see why my nephew allowed you within the sanctity of our home.   No, you will accept our hospitality or I shall be very much put out.”

“Yes ma’am.”  Tirion acquiesced gracefully, bowing deeply from the waist in gratitude.

“Good.”  Augusta said with a firm, approving nod in the man’s direction before she spun on her heel and strode forward towards the Guest Chambers.

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―――

Tirion had never been in a place so entrenched in arcane magic that was still so _pure_.  He had fuzzy memories of a tower somewhat like this one, but he had only been there but once because the arcane energies had made him sick to his stomach.

But this place…..

‘ _It sings with the purity of the Light even as it crackles with arcane power_.’  Tirion pondered as he unpacked his meager belongings.

There was a knock at the door.

“Sorry to bother you.”   The dark haired, bright eyed teen who greeted him said rather sheepishly, one of his hands going up to rub at the back of his neck embarrassedly.  Just behind the green-eyed teen stood a taller, broader teen with honey gold eyes and hair nearly the same shade as Taelan’s had been the last time Tirion had spoken to him.

‘ _Taelan loved greeting guests_.  _He’d chatter their ears off.’_   Tirion thought as a wave of homesickness crashed through him.  With some effort he kept a welcoming smile on his face as he greeted the teen who had spoken.  “No worries, lad.”

“Oh!”  The green-eyed teen continued rather hurriedly once the other teen coughed pointedly.  “Please don’t tell Gran about my bad manners!  I’m Harry, Harry Potter- I heard you’ve met Sirius, he’s my Godfather- anyways, Gran sent us- Neville, my Godbrother is the mini giant behind me- to show you how to work the taps, just in case you needed any help.”

Tirion’s eyebrow rose slightly in amusement but he stepped back and allowed the teens inside.  “I had not gotten that far just yet.”  Tirion admitted, wondering at what sort of technology the tower had to speak of ‘taps’ so easily. 

While places such as Mardenholde Keep had rather advanced facilities Tirion had a sneaking suspicion that those facilities would pale in comparison to anything in the formidable Lady Augusta Longbottom’s domain.

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―――

‘ _Well, that certainly answers that_.’  Tirion thought rather wryly even as he enjoyed the steaming hot water that was beating against his back.  After a few more minutes of indulging in the hot water’s gentle massage Tirion reached for the soap- thoughtfully unscented, unlike the Inns in Silvermoon, the only place with facilities even remotely like these that Tirion had ever witnessed- and the provided fluffy washcloth.

Tirion was rather pleasantly surprised with how easily the soap cut through the grime despite it feeling so gentle against his skin.  He was further impressed after he had washed his beard and hair with the shampoo and conditioner that had been provided.

Standing in front of the mirror clad only in his towel Tirion scarcely recognized himself.

‘ _I wonder if there is some magic in the water_.’  Tirion wondered as he walked back out into his room to find one of the strange little servants waiting for him. 

Fortunately his weapon was across the room so there was no unexpected, rude nearly stabbing of the help.

“I am beings Marley.”  The little being greeted in a rather squeaky voice as it bowed respectfully.  “Mistress Gus sent Marley to offer some fresh clothes for Guest Tirion; just in case our honored guest be in need of any.”

“I washed my clothes just the day before yesterday in the river-“  Tirion cut himself off at the comically horrified look on little Marley’s face.  “I take it that is not acceptable?”  He asked dryly.

“Guest Tirion needs not be wearing dirty clothes, sir!”  The little being reached up to tug at their ears.  “Marley shall fetch some fresh clothes for Guest Tirion.”

Tirion was surprised that the little being was back so quickly after their initial departure.

“There is being many choices here.”  The little being said as they presented the bemused Tirion with a stack of clothes nearly twice their size.

Once the little being had sat the clothes down on a chair they turned back to Tirion.  “If Guest Tirion has any things he is being needing washed then he can leave them on the bed and Marley will bes taking them for washings.”  The little being nodded so emphatically at the end Tirion feared the little thing would give itself a concussion. 

Then the little thing popped out of the room, leaving the bewildered Tirion alone with a pile of clothes.

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―――

Tirion had barely made it to the end of the hallway- clad in a nearly sinfully comfortable white shirt and a pair of black trousers that were comfortable, if a bit strange- before he was introduced to another one of the tower’s inhabitants.

“Ah, you must be Tirion.”  The man with the amber colored eyes and chocolate brown colored hair said with a kind smile.  “I’m Remus Lupin.”

In the short walk to the location where lunch was being held Tirion came to the conclusion that Remus Lupin and he were cut from the same cloth.  Idly Tirion wondered if the man had ever considered becoming a Paladin.

“Ah!  You must be our guest!”  A young woman with a riotous mass of golden-brown curls and warm hazel eyes said once they reached the table.  She leaned forward and offered her hand- something a bit strange, but not entirely unheard of- and when he reached forward to shake it, Tirion was pleased to note the presence callouses on her fingertips and the firmness of her handshake despite her skin being rather soft.  “I’m Hermione Granger.  It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Tirion Fordring.  Likewise Miss Granger.”  Tirion replied politely, but with an undercurrent of warmth that he just could not suppress.

The young woman smiled a bit brighter as tipped her head to the side and laughed.  “Just Hermione is fine, Master Fordring.”

“He seriously-“  Sirius Black began, only to yelp and turn to Remus Lupin with the most pathetically exaggerated look of hurt that Tirion had ever witnessed.  “ _Moony_!”

Once more, Tirion laughed.

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“I think we should help him.”  Hermione declared that night, once everyone- save for their guest, of course- had retired to Augusta’s sitting room to plot.

Er, _discuss_.

“I agree.”  Harry put in resolutely.  “There’s a lot that he has not said, but he just feels-“

“Trustworthy.”  Neville picked up seamlessly.  “And not in a smarmy way.  He’s genuinely humble and there’s just something about him that just seems _right_.”

The adults gave the teens critical once-overs before they began to play the ‘devil’s advocate’- just to ensure that the teens carefully considered all the angles equally- but by the time they all retired back to their rooms they had come to a unanimous decision.

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“We’re willing to help you Master Fordring, but these are our conditions.”  Hermione started off once they had retired to a small study-slash-sitting room after breakfast.

“Oh?  So quickly?”  Tirion asked, somewhat suspicious but overwhelmingly relieved.  He was a bit surprised that the young woman was giving the speech, but after a quick glance he supposed she was learning to take over and thus this situation was being used as a learning experience.

“We feel that time is of the essence in this matter.”  Harry answered firmly. 

“Our home is imbued with an incredible amount of magic.”  Neville added rather solemnly.  “And to us, your words ring true and our home’s magic supports them.”

“Therefore our conditions are as follows…….”

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―――

 ‘ _Keep our secrets.  Tell no one of our home.  Gain permission before you speak to anyone about our family.  Who are these people that they would undertake such a dangerous task just because I asked?_ ’  Tirion wondered as he wandered around the Livery that afternoon.

True, they had asked him if he had any skills and he had felt honor bound to inform them that he had been a Paladin of the Order of the Silver Hand before his fall from grace.  Tirion had been a little worried that the information would damn him- it had on many, many occasions since that wretched trial- but it had seemed to only firm these people’s resolve to assist him.

_‘They only asked that I be willing to teach them the ways of the Light once they complete my task, however it might end.’_   Tirion thought rather dazedly.

‘ _Just who are these people, that they would ask so little and give so much?’_

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For all their resolve and experiences at Zul’Gurub the information Dobby and his Rangers brought back about Hearthglen was beyond disturbing.

“What have they become.”  Tirion whispered in horrified tones after Dobby and his Rangers had concluded their report.  “Isillien and Abbendis once fought with honor, for the good of all as servants of the Light…..this- what they are doing now- it’s beyond madness.”  Tirion seemed to age before their very eyes.  “And what have I done up until now?  Lamented what was lost and hid in shame?”

Sirius brought a warm, heavy hand down on the man’s shoulders, meeting the Paladin’s gaze squarely when Tirion raised his head.  “You’re alive yet, are you not?  You still draw breath, friend, and you have allies.”

“You are right, Sirius.”  Tirion said as he cast away his doubts and firmed his resolve.  The man’s pale blue eyes sparked with life as he gazed at the warriors that surrounded him.  _‘They are young yet; rough around the edges, but their hearts are untamed, unbroken.  Perhaps there is still hope for Taelan….and for myself.’_

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―――

From across the table Hermione smiled reassuringly at the man.  “We’re with you, Master Fordring.  No matter their origins any group that would engage in such depravity- even against the undead- does not deserve to live.”  Hermione’s voice wavered towards the end as her heart ached at what was to come.

Even still, as she took in the resolute yet heartbroken man before her, the young woman thought of her parents- her wonderful parents who had loved her so much even when she had been _different_ and _weird_ and _strange_.  Her parents who had screamed for hours before the Death Eaters had given them the mercy of death- of how she had been helpless to help Dan and Emma Granger but how, just maybe, she could do something that would make them proud of her and the woman she had chosen to become.

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“This is a special magic called a _Portkey_.” Harry explained to the rather confused Tirion exactly a week and a day after they had decided to assist the man.  “Dobby and his Rangers placed the marker for our arrival in a small, somewhat protected clearing a little ways past the entrance to the main compound.”  Harry tapped the map on the table to indicate the place. 

“A _Portkey_ feels as if you’re being hurled around in a fast circle and the rope is connected to you naval.”  Sirius informed the man with a grimace, hurrying to add.  “It doesn’t hurt, really, just feels very strange.”

Tirion nodded, though he looked faintly green.  “The advantage is quite worth some discomfort.”  He said by way of acceptance.

“That’s the spirit!”  Sirius said with a grin.  “Fortunately protections that keep out Portals are not effective on our _Portkeys_.  Once we are inside, we will head for the main building, though we will most likely have to fight our way there.”

“Alright there, Mia?”  Harry asked his sister in all but blood.

The young woman closed her eyes and blew out a long, measured breath.  “Yes.”  She said as she snapped her eyes open and squared her shoulders.  “I’ll never enjoy going into battle that causes me to take the lives of others- giant spiders, oversized bats, and weird hydra-snakes are an entirely different category, in my humble opinion- but I know that these people are just as bad as the Death Eaters were, only they have the gall to try to hide their evil in the light.”  Hermione wrinkled her nose in disgust.  “Somehow I think that makes them even more despicable.”

“Indeed.”  Augusta said briskly as she checked her stock of healing potions- both some she had brewed and some that had been bought from Stormwind by cleverly disguised elves.

Tirion had informed them that one of the little beings had been seen; he had further pointed out that if Thrall who lived all the way in _Orgrimmar_ knew about the strange little Goblin-like little guys, then chances were that someone in Stormwind did as well.

“Right.  So the battle plan is to fight through the crazies, get Tirion’s long lost son back and then _Portkey_ the hell out.”  Sirius summarized neatly as he grabbed his sword and shield.  The man made a face as he tightened the zillions of little buckles.  “You think we can still sneak in under the radar as Adventurers?”  He mused aloud at no one in particular.

“Once we return from this mission I plan to reform the Order of the Silver Hand.”  Tirion informed the gathered warriors warmly.  “You will all be welcome and I am certain that I could find trainers for each of you if the path of the Paladin is not one you choose to walk.”

“Huh.  Something to think about.”  Sirius commented as he strapped on a couple of extra daggers.  “Alright there, Moony?”

“Just thinking is all.”  Remus replied absently as he readjusted his staff as he tied his emergency kit in place.  After a few moments of thought he turned to Tirion.  “Do you think someone affected with the Worgen Curse can be a Paladin?”

Tirion blinked slowly as he processed the new information but his answer was firm and unyielding.  “Put your faith in the Light and all is possible, my friend.  Should the path of a Paladin be closed to you, however, I would introduce you to the Druids.  You certainly have enough heart for either discipline.”

“I want to study the ways of the Druids.”  Neville said somewhat wistfully.

“Oh, gonna learn how to turn into a bear for _real_ then, Nev?  Not just whenever someone _accidentally and quite innocently_ steps on one of your _insane_ plants?”  Harry teased his friend.

“Verona is _sensitive,_ you great bloody prat!”  Neville insisted indignantly.  “And you crushed one of her berries!  Of course she lashed out!  How would you feel if I squashed one of your fingers?!”

“I wouldn’t try to rip your bloody leg off!”

“That one’s _definitely_ a Druid.”  Tirion muttered lowly- so as not to be heard be the mostly playfully squabbling teens.

Remus,  who was standing next to Tirion, who burst out laughing and nearly impaled himself on his backup dagger.

“Alright, gather up, kiddos, we’re moving out in t-minus sixty!”  Sirius bellowed, cutting through the chatter easily and causing everyone to focus.

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“Father?”  Taelan Fording whispered shakily as he laid eyes on the man who had taken Isillien’s more than likely fatal blow in his place, the twisted Light spell the High Inquisitor was channeling through the weapon causing the impaled man’s body to convulse violently.

“You disappoint me, Taelan. I had plans for you... grand plans. Alas, it was only a matter of time before your filthy bloodline would catch up with you.  It is as they say: Like father, like son.  You are as weak of will as Tirion... perhaps more so.”  The man’s voice was oily and falsely pleasant and he paused only to cruelly twist his weapon, causing Tirion’s body to arch back inelegantly before he went limp, blood pouring out of his nose, mouth, and ears.  “Taelan, know this: I do this for pleasure, not of obligation or duty.  As a matter of-“

“That’s enough you _monster_.”  Hermione cried, tears streaming down her face as she shoved a spike of ice through the back of the man’s chest.

With Isillien’s concentration disrupted the spell tormenting Tirion cut off.  The man’s hand snapped out to hold the weapon in place when the deranged former Paladin attempted to withdraw it.

“The…..young woman….speaks the truth.”  Tirion heaved out through bloody gasps as he raised his blazing blue eyes to meet his one-time comrade’s head on. “I will no longer…..be party to your….savagery.”

Isillien called forth a spell and twisted towards Hermione but an arrow wreathed in pure white light slammed into his neck, causing him to stagger to his knees.

“May your soul burn in anguish!”  Tirion bellowed as he snapped up his sword and- in one smooth motion, despite the weapon still lodged in his chest- beheaded the deranged man.

A loud boom sounded.

“We’re surrounded by now.”  Taelan Fordring noted sadly as Augusta and Hermione surged forward to treat the fallen Tirion.  The young man took one last, nearly desperate look at his father’s face; his heart heavy with sadness.  “This is not your fight I-“

“No.”  Sirius said, clapping a firm hand on the young man’s shoulder, causing him to startle and turn to face him.

“But this is my fault, my burden-“  Taelan protested as yet another loud boom resounded through the room and the shields covering the- mostly broken- stained glass windows flickered ominously.

Dobby and several of his Rangers popped in.  “The special decoy charges are ready Master Sirius!”

“Excellent work, buddy.  You guys are really indispensable, you know?”  Sirius praised the little elves warmly as Neville, Remus and Harry came running back inside.  “Are we good?”

“Yeah.”  Harry wheezed out as he skidded to a stop.  “There were a couple of close calls but we got the information.”

“Plus a whole bunch extra.   Didn’t have time to read it all but-“  Neville broke off his statement and grimaced; rubbing at a shallow wound near his shoulder for a moment.  “Let’s just say I feel a lot less bad about having to fight these guys.”

Another boom- this one much louder- cut off any further conversation.

“Kay, everyone grab onto this.”  Sirius sang as he produced the return _Portkey_.

Thankfully Taelan did not comment, though he was visibly confused.

“One, two, three- now Dobby!-- _Musketeers_.”

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	4. Black Brotherhood

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Not an hour after their narrow escape from Hearthglen Augusta had Tirion resting comfortably in the makeshift infirmary that had been set up in the first left-hand-side suite of the Guest Chambers.

“We should allow him to rest.”  Augusta announced tiredly as she gently shepherded everyone- Taelan included- out of the suite and into the hallway.  “I understand that you likely don’t wish to allow him out of your sight, young man.”  Augusta informed the rather crestfallen man gently.  “But you need to rest and recover as well.”

A small elf popped in just as Augusta finished her statement.  “I is being Barley, Guest Taelan sirs!”  The little being supplied primly. 

At least Taelan _assumed_ that the little being was a ‘her’ given the flower-embroidered maroon and white pinafore-styled dress that was perfectly pressed, coupled with the black buckled shoes were shined to a high gloss.  “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Barley.”

“Just Barley is fine, Guest Taelan, sirs!”  The little lady chirped happily; a rosy, pleased blush blooming to life on her pale cheeks. “Ise have prepared the suite just across the hall from Guest Tirion’s own for yous.  There is also being some foods and potions for you to take.  This way, Guest Taelan!”

――ᴖᴗ――

“Where are Tirion and Taelan?”  Hermione asked curiously as she took her place at the table in the War Room.

The War Room now held maps of each zone the Rangers had canvassed pinned to the walls.  A few of the Rangers had taken to learning the art of mapmaking from one of the Library Elves so the maps were fairly detailed and properly noted important factors such as topography of an area or cave systems.  The magically affixed maps were inked out onto cured animal skins- the skins were far more resistant to wear and tear once properly enchanted- which nicely accented the swirled blue stone walls. 

Augusta or the elves had dug up a nice, plushy navy blue carpet from somewhere which offset the heavy walnut furniture quite nicely.  The cheerful light given off by the stable Light Runes along the border of the room gave the room a crisp, but somewhat tranquil atmosphere.

Well, until someone activated the Karazhan Atlas and the center of the table turned into a real-time map of everything under the tower’s primary ward scheme.  It was not three-dimensional just yet, but the Research Team were pretty determined to make it not only three dimensional but interactive.

(“Bloody overachievers.”  The highly entertained Harry would mutter conspiratorially to Neville whenever the others would fall into Atlas-improvement brainstorming session.)

“I believe they are working through their overabundance of misunderstandings while helping Fitz in the Livery.”  Augusta commented offhandedly as she shuffled a few papers and fussed with the tea service.

“It’s kind of amusing that their idea of ‘busy work’- or whatever they want to say it is- is our version of drudge work.”  Harry said with a wide grin, eliciting chuckles for everyone at the table.

“We’ve gotten better.”  Sirius felt the need to point out in their defense.  “But we came from an entirely different sort of world in that our idea of ‘leisure activities’ tend to be a bit more…..well, less useful?  I guess?”  Sirius scrubbed a hand over his face and scowled a bit.  “I guess it’s like- people like Tirion and Taelan are used to needing to make just about every hour count.  They really don’t know how to not be working.  Agh!”  Sirius crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair as he gave up trying to put his thoughts into words.

Beside him- to Sirius’ left- Remus chuckled a little.  “I get what you’re trying to say, Padfoot.”  Remus grinned at his grumpy friend; his amber eyes dancing with boyish mischief.  “Though, I _am_ glad that we have Gran for all of our diplomatic needs.”

Sirius maturely stuck his tongue out at Remus while Augusta let slip an amused little noise somewhere between a chuckle and a giggle.

“I do sort of understand what Sirius was trying to say.”  Hermione commented as she righted her note-taking utensils, pointedly ignoring the fondly exasperated looks from her brothers as she fussed with their utensils as well.

They darn well knew fussing with things was how she prepped for a meeting!  If they were truly attached to their haphazardly scattered materials they should not have set right next to her!  There was plenty of room at the table!

“Yeah, I mean Azeroth’s been on the brink of destruction several times in just the last hundred years or so.”  Harry added thoughtfully.  As he spoke he stealthily nudged a mechanical pencil _slightly_ out of place when Hermione’s head was turned away; he fully enjoyed her mild irritation and quiet muttering when she started reorganizing all of his implements as a result of the minor chaos to her neat order.  “The people have sort of adapted to keeping busy and trying to stay ahead of the game, so to speak.”

“And that-“  Remus announced, clapping his hands together and dry washing them in a sort of ‘let’s do this’ gesture.  “-is a good of place as any to start this meeting.”

“Yes, why are we gathered here, Sir Moony?”  Sirius asked in his best impression of a Wizengamot member, complete with a nasally accent and the sudden appearance of glasses.

Remus casually vanished the glasses- slipping in some improvements to Sirius’ hair on the sly as he did so- and continued.  “I have done some cross referencing and such with our- that is the Research Team’s- research into Earth magic versus Arcane energy.  Though we still have _years_ to go before our ideas fully solidify into anything nearing ‘this is a concrete law’ territory, I wanted to have a meeting so that we could all sort of be on the same page, magically, before we begin branching off and learning Azeroth-ian disciplines.”

“And excellent idea, Remus.”  Augusta said with a small smile, raising her tea cup in a silent salute.  “I have a feeling that things are about to get hectic for us, given what we’ve already unearthed from skimming a few of the liberated documents from our sojourn to Hearthglen.”

“Hearthglen is the name of the whole area, right?”  Sirius asked, scratching at his head rather sheepishly.  “I mean, I know Tirion and Taelan have both mentioned ‘Mardenholde Keep’ but….”

“Mardenholde Keep- which was Tirion’s until he was exiled and currently is supposed to be ruled by Taelan- is the name of the, well I suppose you could call it the stronghold or capital of Hearthglen.”  Hermione piped up cheerfully. 

“That makes sense.”  Sirius replied with an easy grin.  “I was just sort of getting confused because it almost seemed like they were two separate places sometimes.”

“I suppose you could think of it like Hogwarts.”  Augusta put forth pensively.  “The castle being akin to the Keep, but the area the Wards cover being Hearthglen itself.”

“That does help me visualize it.”  Neville said with a grateful grin at his Gran.  “It was just sort of difficult to wrap my head around from the way they were talking about it.”

“It is sort of its own city-state though, isn’t it?”  Harry asked, idly snatching up his pencil and doodling on his paper.  “I mean, wasn’t it part of Lordaeron before all of the Arthas-the-Prince-turned-Death-Knight and Kel’Thuzad-the-creepy-Plague-guy stuff happened?”

“Yes.”  Hermione answered promptly.  “It was ruled by King Terenas Menethil the II and it was where the people of Stormwind took shelter after the First War and the decimation of the original Stormwind.”

“Methinks we should assist in liberating Hearthglen- and Mardenholde Keep- from the crazies.”  Sirius interjected dryly as he conjured a copy of the Western Plaguelands Map from the wall and bent over to study it.  “Hearthglen takes up nearly the entirety of the northern part of what is now called the ‘Western Plaguelands’ and it is nearly surrounded by mountains.”

Remus whistled softly as he glanced over Sirius’ arm and studied the map intently.  “I agree. It would be relatively simple to fortify magically if we could succeed in routing the cultists.  Depending on what Tirion wishes to do with it, it could become a mainstay for trade in the area and offer safe harbor to many people.”

“Yeah, most of the area to the south still has a lot of undead activity according to any printed maps as well as the Rangers’ scouting.”  Sirius murmured as he squinted at the map.  “We’d need a heck of a lot of people to take Hearthglen back from the crazies though.  We’re good- and we have lots of surprises and things that go boom on our side- but there were a _lot_ of crazies in that place.  We only made it out as clean as we did thanks to bloody impeccable intel, magic, and good old fashioned stacking the deck in our favor.”

“We take ‘work smarter, not harder’ to a whole ’nother level.”  Neville chipped in with a crooked little grin.

“And speaking of that.”  Remus said with an answering grin.  “Back to the topic at hand.”

“Ah, yes.”  Harry stage-whispered.  “ _That_.”

“As I mentioned before, it will take years to fully understand things, but for now here are some answers to our burning questions.”  Remus continued in his best Professor voice.  “We know that relatively few people on Azeroth have an aptitude for the arcane arts.”  Remus paused wave his wand a few times, sending copies of his little report to everyone.

“You theorize that because magic is so prevalent on Azeroth some people actually build up immunity to it?”  Hermione queried curiously as she read through the neatly written bullet points.

“Yes, I do.”  Remus replied with a smile.  “Unlike Earth- which had a large nonmagical population and a small portion of those born with their own, innate power; Azerothian mages are taught to use arcane energy as an external source.  Unlike our magic- which comes from within us and is supplied by our internal magic cores- mages here learn to harness arcane energy that they pull in from all around them.”

“That’s where the term ‘mana’ comes in.”  Augusta murmured as she set the report down and tapped her chin in attentive contemplation.  “Mana is the measurement by which Azeroth gauges the strength of their mages.  There’s an equation for magi to use to determine how large their current reservoir of mana happens to be and they are encouraged to recalculate their reserves every month.  If a mage runs entirely out of mana- and one can only use so many quick-fix elixirs or potions without doing permanent harm- then the spells become unstable and the mage runs the serious risk of draining their own life force completely.  Certain enchantments can enhance a person’s reserves or how quickly they refill, but a major obstacle in mage training is teaching young magi how to properly balance the theory of arcane magic with the casting of it.”

“To fully understand what we’re talking about.”  Remus hurried to add, noting the confusion on even Hermione’s face.  “You must first understand what arcane energy is.  Arcane energy is sort of like the Force in Hermione’s Star Wars books.  Arcane magic is what Order- which is what the Titans brought to worlds, if you will recall- is most commonly perceived as in reality.  To directly quote on of the Library tomes- ‘Innately volatile, wielding this type of energy requires intense precision and concentration.  Conversely, highly destructive fel magic is what Disorder is manifested as. This brutal and extremely addictive energy is fueled by drawing life from other living beings’.  If a mage runs _entirely_ out of stable mana and persists in attempting to cast arcane spells, they tip their internal magic balance into fel magics.  Sadly, they usually self-destruct in the process.”

“Fel magic is what demons- like the Burning Legion forces- practice, right?”  Neville asked, scratching out a few notes on his paper.

Hermione had already filled up a full page- front and back- and was halfway through the front page of sheet number two.

“Correct.”  Remus answered, his nose wrinkling a bit in distaste.  “Arcane magic being a _literal_ manifestation of Order is easily seen in how easily it can be abused.  A person must have a strong will and a firm grounding in the theory of a spell to force the arcane energy to do exactly as the caster wishes.  To put things in perspective for you- most mage students never make it past Second Year level casting.  Granted they can cast that small contingent of spells _flawlessly,_ but that is about the comparative level of spell casting for most mages.”

“It might explain why Hermione snaps up Azeroth mage spells so fluidly.”  Harry commented as he twirled his pencil between his fingers.

“How so?”  Hermione asked curiously.

“Well-“  Harry paused for a moment before shaking his head and plowing forward recklessly.  “-and I mean this in the nicest way possible- you have a very meticulous approach to learning.  You learn well from books- you understand the written word so clearly it is hard for you to put the information in your own words because it just makes so much sense to you the way it is written in a book.”

Hermione frowned a bit, but nodded slowly.  “Yes, that’s true.  I’ve always gotten in trouble for ‘regurgitating’ information but it just makes _sense_ to me the way it’s written.  To put the information in my own words would be pointless.  A waste of time and effort, really.  It’s why I usually use- well, used- so many sources in an essay- to prove I do understand the material.”

“And therein lies the difference, Mia.”  Harry told her with a small grin, trying to keep from upsetting his friend but also wanting to make his point.  “Neville and I- and even Sirius- we think about things better when we absorb information and can sort of see it in play.  You usually don’t really need that extra step because you get it from the start.” 

Hermione still looked a bit upset but thankfully Neville piped up before Harry could get in any deeper.

“I think I get what Harry’s trying to say.”  Neville ventured with a grin at the girl when she turned to face him.  “Once I feel the magic from a spell a time or two- or several- the information sort of sinks in.  Then I don’t always need the wand movements or the words to do it.  I may not get it entirely right, but I usually get the point across.”  He nudged Hermione’s shoulder gently.  “You, our wonderful little genius, cannot take sure a shoddy approach to spellcasting.  You enunciate the words, do the correct movements, and you get the best possible result _nearly every time_.  On any given spell- from a simple _Lumos_ charm to the most complicated spell in existence.”

“Ah, I see now.”  Augusta interjected pensively.  “Whereas the boys would hone a small selection of spells- such as Harry’s _Patronus_ \- to a fine edge and settle for ‘good enough’ most everywhere else Hermione truly follows the path of Order.”  Augusta smiled kindly at the young woman.  “It is just a difference in perspective, dear.  And we’re not saying that you cannot improvise with the best of them!  Just that those improvised spells will likely be as honed and precise as any of your others.”

“So, essentially-“  Hermione said slowly, her eyebrows drawn together as she puzzled through the information and tried to keep her emotions in check- she knew her family was not trying to be cruel, but she was a bit sensitive sometimes!  “-you’re saying that my methodical approach to things is an asset?  That it helps me learn the ways of the arcane a little- better?  Easier?- than the boys?”

“Basically.”  Harry said with a small sigh of relief.  “I mean, even Moony and Gran struggle a bit but you snap this arcane stuff up like- well.  Magic.”  Harry made an over-the-top, silly hand gesture and after a long moment Hermione burst into peals of laughter which allowed the tension that had slowly filled the room to dissipate.

“There’s nothing wrong with your or how you approach things, Hermione.”  Remus went on to assure the girl once everything had calmed down.  “But it seems as if you have a natural knack for ‘Order’.  It’s nothing to be ashamed of!”

“Indeed.”  Augusta added, favoring Hermione with another one of her rare, proud smiles to help smooth over any lingering injured feelings.

“So, yes.  Arcane energy is a literal manifestation of Order.”   Remus continued quickly. 

“And our Hermione will most likely knock everyone’s socks off with the magic she can use because she’s bloody _brilliant_.”  Sirius added with his own crooked little conspiring grin toward the blushing young woman, who rolled her eyes and grinned back at him good-naturedly.

“Mage arts require practice, focus, precision, and intense concentration.”  Remus blithely continued, elbowing Sirius not-so-discreetly to get the man to stop making silly faces at the teens so they would focus.  “Azeroth has many disciplines that could be classified as ‘magic’- the Druids, Paladins, Enchanting items etc.- so a mage must account for unexpected fluctuations.  I think that we are sort of insulated from this crucial- often never fully cleared- step in mage training in that we are _already_ attuned to magic since we have a well of magic within us.”

“So, like, we sort of have a natural advantage because we unconsciously already make adjustments for such things?”  Harry asked, cocking his head to the side curiously and resting his temple against his closed fist.

“Exactly!”  Remus replied with a proud grin.  “It’s much like breathing to us.  Tell me, do any of you remember feeling like you weighed more when you visited Gringotts?”

“Yeah.  Now that you mention it.”  Hermione piped up with a perplexed look on her face.  “I always felt sort of tired and weighed down whenever we went to exchange currency there.”

Remus grinned brightly at her.  “Goblin magic is- was- centered around the element of earth.  It gave their overall magic a sort of weighty feel.  Magical Creatures such as Veela would seem warm or spicy, depending on how much pure Veela magic one encountered.  Undines were known for the fluid, mysterious feel of their water-based magics.  In fact their water magics were so good as keeping them obscured from conventional magic tracking methods that it was said that they had no souls until they married a human man and bore him a child!  Of course Snitches- the animals the Golden Snitch was named after- used unique air magics, allowing them to move far faster and freer in the air than should be possible.”

“So what would witches and wizards magics be classified as?”  Harry asked curiously.

“It really depended on where you were, but essentially our magic is thought of as a fifth element.”  Remus explained easily.  “I think the easiest term for it is the Asian term- I’m fairly certain it is Japanese, but don’t quote me on that- Kū.  It can be translated as ‘void’ or ‘sky’ or ‘heaven’ but the idea is that it represents idea, thought, and-or creative energy.”

“Huh.”  Hermione mused, settling back against her chair as she absorbed that information.  “That actually….makes a lot of sense, really.”

“Yeah, it does.”  Harry parroted as he doodled some more down the sides of his note paper.  “It would definitely put some of the laws of magic into perspective.”

“How so?”  Hermione asked him, Neville learning forward and resting his chin on the crown of Hermione’s head so he could see Harry, too.

“Well, our magic can’t make actual food and arcane energy can.”  Harry pointed out reasonably.  “If our innate magic is associated with ‘idea, thought, and creative energy’ it would make sense that we could do just about anything but make sustenance.  Water can be wrung from the air but food _can’t_.”

Hermione’s eyes widened and she sat up straight, nearly causing Neville bit his tongue in her excitement.  “That’s such a good point, Harry!”  She exclaimed as she hurriedly scribbled down some notes.  “I was really having trouble with mages being able to conjure food- even if it would eventually disappear if left for too long and such- but that really helps me pin down the line that divides arcane energy and it’s possibilities from our innate magic and its limits.”  She leaned over and kissed Harry’s cheek.  “You’re the _best_!”

“Yes, and I sat here and did absolutely nothing.”  Neville grumbled teasingly.

Hermione rolled her eyes and reached over and kissed Neville’s cheek as well.  “Happy now?”

“Delirious.”  Neville deadpanned in true English fashion.

“Yes, well.”  Remus commandeered the conversation with a grin.  “Now we all know the basic differences between our magic and arcane energy.”

 “Well, if I’m set to be the mage of our Order then what do the rest of you want to study?”  Hermione asked excitedly, bouncing a bit in her seat as she glanced around curiously.

“I still want to study the ways of the Druids.”  Neville said somewhat dreamily, eliciting laughs from everyone else.

“Yeah, we _know_.”  Harry informed the other dryly, grinning unrepentantly in the face of Neville’s mock-scowl.  “I kind of want to study becoming a Hunter.  I mean, I’m a decent shot with my bow and I’ve summoned that not-Prongs stag a few times.”

“I’m fairly certain that your super-Patronus is somehow tied to the story of Malorne.”  Hermione added pensively.  “But I’d really like for you to show it to the Night Elves and get their opinion.  They were immortal until fairly recently, after all.”

“Point.”  Harry conceded with a shrug and a grin.

“I would like to study the ways of the Light.”  Remus admitted rather sheepishly.  “But I also am very interested in Tirion’s friend Thrall and ‘shamanism’.”

“That’s our Professor Moony.  The eternal student.”  Sirius teased lightly as he folded his arms over his chest and thought for a few moments.  “I’m not entirely sure I’m all noble and Paladin-like but I’ve always was particularly gifted with creativity.  Thus far I’ve been the one taking the brunt of attacks so the rest of you guys could hammer it with spells or arrows, but if our Nev learns how to turn into one of those bears….”  Sirius let his statement trail off and then he shrugged.  “Eh, I’ll figure it out eventually.  What about you, Gran?”

Augusta pursed her lips in partially amused and partly aggravated exasperation at the use of ‘Gran’.  Harry had called her that on accident one day and she had assured him that it was fine and the next thing she knew _everyone_ was calling her Gran!  She was far too young to be the grandmother of the likes of Sirius Black!

“I am unsure.”  Augusta said after a beat of silence.  “I am interested in healing more than the arcane- though I will certainly learn several useful spells, just in case- but I am unsure exactly how I wish to go about learning healing.”

“Well, there’s also Azeroth’s professions to consider.”  Remus put in unexpectedly.  “Tailoring and Leatherworking and Enchanting can all be learned- but they take so much time and effort to hone the skills to a reasonable proficiency we would need to divide and conquer.”

“Remember when I thought that _OWLs_ were tough?”  Harry muttered rather miserably as he let his head fall forward and meet the table with a rather solid _thunk_.  “I take it back.  I take it alllllll back!”

“Hear, hear.”  Neville groaned, his forehead meeting the solid wood just a few seconds after Harry’s.

“ _Boys_.”  Hermione huffed in amusement as she patted them both on the back and tried not to laugh at their theatrics.

――ᴖᴗ――

“This information is beyond disturbing to read.”  Hermione commented distastefully as she read through yet another report that had been liberated from Hearthglen.

“I agree, Lady Hermione.”  Taelan replied, his eyes haunted as he read through accounts of what had been happening under his very nose.

Tirion, seeing the dark look on his son’s face brought a heavy, warm hand to rest on the younger man’s shoulder.  “This was not your doing Taelan.  You trusted them and they used that against you.  I should have-“

“No, father.  We’ve been over this.”  Taelan cut the elder man off kindly, but firmly.

The past few days had seen Taelan and Tirion down in the Livery for most of their waking hours. 

With their hands busy it had been easier for the father and son to talk through the misconceptions and outright deceptions that had led to Taelan’s naïve following of the Scarlet Crusade.  Both men felt a great deal of guilt and shame but Sirius Black and Remus Lupin- who had brought lunch to the Livery’s overlook for the four of them- had shared a few of their own experiences with the father and son.

_“My old mentor once told me that having power is a double edged sword.  It means that you can do a lot of good or a lot of people- but it also means that if you make a misstep it can do a lot of harm to those self-same folks.”  Sirius Black said wisely, his eyes understanding and warm.  “But to survive failure is to learn; while doing nothing at all because your fear failure is unforgivable.”_

“Still.”  Harry said after a few moments of thick silence, weary of reading the sordid _filth_ written on the parchment before him.  “We need to inform someone of this….rampant corruption.  And the conspiracies.  I’m pretty sure they’d give old _Trelawney_ nightmares.”

“I wholeheartedly agree, though I am not acquainted with this ‘Trelawney’.”  Tirion stated decisively.  “There is a place- in what is now called the Eastern Plaguelands- where the former followers of Lord Alexandros Mograine have split into two factions.  Three, I suppose, though the Brotherhood of the Light is more of a sub-faction, but I digress.  The Argent Dawn is an order that is essentially a mirror to the original Silver Hand.  It’s in the very name- ‘Argent’ is just a bit more archaic term for silver, after all.  They fight the Scourge for the good of all of Azeroth and maintain a strict code of honor.  The other faction- well, you’ve met them.  They broke away because they felt that the Dawn’s dealings were too ‘soft.”  Tirion huffed a derisive laugh.  “I do not know the Crusade’s true motives, but I can assure you that they most certainly are not proper Paladin Knights, despite the rumors they like to spread about how Alexandros himself founded them.”

“Are you speaking of Light’s Hope Chapel, father?”  Taelan asked as he finally tore his eyes away from the report in front of him.  “I was strongly discouraged from traveling far from Hearthglen and Mardenholde Keep.”  Taelan’s lips thinned in anger.  “Knowing what I know now, I imagine that the _traitors_ feared my finding out the truth of their actions.”

Tirion nodded grimly and leaned back a bit.  He cast a weathered gaze over the others for a long moment and simply enjoyed the sunshine that filtered through the Dining Hall’s stained glass windows and pleasantly warmed his back.  “The Brotherhood of the Light is a subfaction of the Argent Dawn and they act as a buffer between the fanatical Crusade and the more honorable Dawn members.”  Tirion sighed heavily and leaned forward.  “Though, I fear that this information is going to have a rather negative impact on the Dawn’s morale.  Knowing that they were in any way party to such depravity will rankle their sense of honor and justice.”

“Champion Dawnbringer- the Head of the Brotherhood- is an honorable man.  I am certain that he will be able to rally the morale of the Dawn as a whole, especially with father reforming the Silver Hand Knights.”  Taelan added rather pensively.  “I’ve only met him briefly but he was kind to me, despite…that _traitor’s_ attempts to sabotage his reputation and our few interactions.  The _traitor_ was forever condemning Champion Dawnbringer’s ‘code of honor’.”  Taelan sighed heavily and buried his face in his hands.  “And I….I believed him.  What have I done?”

“I once thought that Sirius was the one who betrayed my parents.”  Harry mentioned idly as he shuffled a few papers around and jotted down a few notes.  “If someone controls the flow of information, it’s amazing what sort of damage they can do.”

“Hear, hear.”  The other Earth magicals cheered grimly.

“So, how do we get this information to the people who matter?”  Sirius asked as he reached for another pile.  Only he did a sudden double-take and quickly began shuffling papers around, nearly frantically.

“What is it, Sirius?”  Augusta sked concernedly as Sirius’ face grew stormier as he continued to rearrange parchment.

“Those bloody _assholes_.”  Sirius snarled viciously, his hands tightening and nearly tearing the parchment he was holding.  Finally he glanced up and saw that all the attention was focused on him, so he hurried to explain.  “Apparently they’ve- these Scarlet Crusade bastards- have been keeping an eye on the situation with the Defias Brotherhood.  They even secretly helped the Defias set up a base in the marshes near the new city of Theramore in return for access to Stormwind Army intel.”

“Those were the jerks that were harassing Ma Stonefield and her neighbors, right?”  Neville asked as he leaned forward and rested his chin on his fist.

“Yep.”  Sirius spat out disgustedly.  “Apparently the High Inquisitor guy and the High General have allies in the…”  Sirius squinted at the paper and frowned heavily.

Augusta whipped out her wand and cast a chain of spells, murmuring softly in Latin the entire time.  This went on for about a minute before the parchment tried to catch fire, but Augusta merely waved her wand a few more times and began chanting faster.

The original parchment did go up in flames eventually, but only after the ink bled off of it and onto a new piece of parchment under Augusta’s steady wand work.

Augusta sighed and gestured to Sirius as she took a moment to gather her breath.

“Ah.  Now I can read it properly.  Enchantment?”  Sirius queried, quirking an eyebrow at the formidable Longbottom Matriarch.

“Yes.  It was much stronger than the ones that they used on the Wizengamot Dockets, but I managed to blend the spells.”  Augusta replied with a sharp grin after taking a long drink of the water Kreacher brought her.  “I might not have gotten all of the information, but I’d wager I salvaged a good ninety percent of it, at least.”

“Well, I’m glad.”  Sirius mused as he turned his gaze back to the parchment.  “Anyways, the Crusade zealots have confirmed that Lady Katrana Prestor of Stormwind is in league with Onyxia of the Black Dragonflight.”

“How did they make the connection?”  Hermione asked curiously.  “The Dragonflights are notoriously reclusive, seemingly indifferent to mortal affairs.  Wait.”  Hermione tapped her lip as she thought for a moment.  “You said the _Black_ Dragonflight?”

“Yes, that’s what the Crusade’s crazies from an area known as Dustwallow Marsh report.”  Sirius confirmed for the young woman.

All of the Earth magicals shared significant, but covert looks.  Tirion caught the glances but was more than agreeable to allowing the honorable family who had helped save his son their secrets.

“The Black Dragonflight revels in mortal suffering.  They even fight against the other Dragonflights!”  Hermione gasped as the information finally fell into place.  “There’s no telling what sort of harm having a Black Dragon as a human advisor could do!  They nearly exterminated the Blue Dragonflight entirely!”

“It gets worse.”  Sirius told her, his lips set in a grim slash.  “Apparently the situation in the Burning Steppes with the Blackrock Orcs is connected somehow.  Lady Prestor is known for being the right-hand advisor to the King and the Crusade suspects she is using twisted draconic magic to influence the mind of the left-hand man, Bolmar Foragon?”  Sirius trailed off as the ink blurred the last bit of the name, but Tirion’s curse quickly distracted him.

“Bolvar Fordragon was a Knight of the Silver Hand.”  Tirion said worriedly.  “If she has done something to him…..Bolvar was as unassailable as Uther the Lightbringer in terms of conviction.  He has even been kind to me, despite my banishment.”  Tirion traded worried looks with Taelan.  “I must see this for myself.  Though I have no idea how, exactly, to tell if a human woman is secretly a dragon, let alone one as strong as Deathwing’s offspring.”

“We can help with that.”  Sirius said firmly, trading dark looks with Remus.  “I imagine that a dragon shapeshifting into a human form has to be similar to a human shapeshifting.”

“It is traditional to take gifts when one visits a foreign land.”  Augusta mused pensively.  “But that begs the question of how we could possibly get close enough to give her an enchanted gift that would reveal her- assumed, at this point in time- treachery.”

“I can get us that far.   If we can somehow manage to take back Hearthglen, all the better for us.”  Taelan replied earnestly.  “It would be remiss of me to not seek out the King of Stormwind and report the treachery of the Crusade.”  Taelan waved a hand at yet another stack of parchments.  “After all we have solid, irrefutable evidence that the Crusade has been capitalizing on Stormwind’s troubles and engaging in highly unethical behaviors.  Technically Hearthglen is more of a city-state these days.”

“And seeing as these groups are aware of each other and seem to be united in their goals to keep Stormwind’s eyes everywhere but where they _should_ be, time is most likely of the essence.”  Augusta commented shrewdly.  “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

“It says that the Defias Brotherhood was actually started by Edwin VanCleef- the head of the Stonemasons Guild whom the House of Nobles refused to pay fairly.”  Sirius muttered as he took information from Dobby’s reports and slotted it into the new information on the parchment before him.  “The House of Nobles- most notably the Lady Prestor- essentially created the threat in their own backyard.”

“To what end?”  Taelan asked heavily.

“To keep Stormwind divided.”  Tirion answered solemnly, a distressed look coming over his features.  “I remember Edwin.  He was quite gifted at engineering and efficient construction sites, even as a lad.  He and his father, Edward, visited Mardenholde Keep several times before King Terenas’ death.  Edwin was fiercely loyal to his king- King Varian Wrynn’s father, King Llane- so it makes no sense that he would found a renegade organization such as these ‘Defias’.”

“’A house divided against itself will fall’.”  Hermione quoted sadly as she scanned her neatly written notes.  “It says that Queen Tiffin Wrynn was killed during the Stonemasons Riots a few years back and VanCleef and the other Stonemasons were cast out of Stormwind.  A noble by the name of…”  Hermione shuffled her papers around a bit and worried her lips as she searched for the information.  “Ah!  Count Erlgadin!  The Count and the Queen were the two who staunchly supported giving the Stonemasons Guild the originally agreed upon price.”

“And then the Queen dies in a Stonemasons Riot?”  Harry drawled; unimpressed.  “Coincidence much?

“Indeed.”  Augusta muttered sourly, her lips pursed in disapproval.  “I imagine that all of the upheaval- not to mention the loss of most of the artisans- only assists in keeping the King blind to all the snakes in his garden.”

The table descended back into controlled chaos for a while as everyone compared their notes and fact-checked, trying to ensure they were all on the same page and all of their information was properly linear.

The Earth magicals were incredibly thankful that Dobby and his Rangers had gotten so good at mapping out areas and magicking overheard bits of conversation onto parchment.  Thankfully Common was close enough to English that there were no major translation issues.  Augusta had needed to cast an older translation spell on a couple pairs of reading glasses- which were essentially simple magnifying lenses inside a slim pair of spectacles- for Tirion and Taelan, as blocky printed words confused both men.  The charm translated the words into elegant cursive, which seemed to work just fine.

“Ok, so.”  Remus piped up, massaging his forehead tiredly.  “The King of Stormwind has two main advisors- Lady Prestor and this Lord Fordragon, right?”

“Affirmative.”  Sirius replied in his best robot impression, earning a chuckle from the teens, which made the adults smile.

“Now, we think that the Lady Prestor is actually a Black Dragon wearing a human costume and that she’s somehow influencing Fordragon to agree with her, or at least be susceptible to her suggestions, right?”  Neville continued, drawing little arrows and such on his cheat sheet.

“That is correct.”  Augusta affirmed.

“So, with his two Advisors compromised, the King is getting shoddy council, right?”  Harry asked, peeking over Neville’s shoulder to look at the plant-enthusiast’s sheet.

“Again, correct.”  Remus slipped in encouragingly.

“There is also no guarantee that the King has not been affected as well.”  Tirion pointed out realistically.  “Varian Wrynn was never the same after the fall of the original Stormwind and then he lost his wife, Tiffin, just a few years ago.  All he has left at this point is his son and his people.”

“Well, _balls_.”  Sirius sighed.

“I _hate_ politics.”  Harry groaned miserably.

“Which is why you have _me_.”  Augusta announced grandly, a crafty smile tugging at her lips.  “I propose the following ambitious plan…..”

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The air was cold and heavy with the unpleasant scents of gunpowder, slime ooze, blood, and metal. 

“Well go on then.”  The downed man wheezed, clinging to his pride with all of his might as he tried to struggle against the bonds that held him down.  “Go on then, Stormwind _dogs_.”  Edwin VanCleef’s dark eyes were full of spite and malice towards the intruders, as if he could set them on fire with just his gaze.

The disguised intruders who had ripped through the Deadmines said nothing as they went around and double checked that all of the others were fully secure.  The ships were bobbing gently at the underground port, but as there were no explosions, the Defias Brotherhood Commander-in-Chief feared the worst.

Finally, all of the captives had been properly lined up along the underground dock.  The freed slaves and workmen were set down to the side of the dock inside what looked like a mage circle or barrier of some sort; judging by the bandages they were sporting, the intruders had had a medic treat them.

Next to Edwin VanCleef, on the dock, was the ogre, Rhahk’Zor and the gifted miner, Miner Johnson.  Even Sneed, Gilnid, and Captain Greenskin- the Brotherhood’ wiliest Goblins- had been captured!  However these intruders had gotten past Sneed’s Shredder without alerting all of them beforehand was a damn mystery!  They were tied up just in front of Edwin.  Mr. Smite the Tauren was just a bit to the right of the Goblins, while Cookie- the Brotherhood’s light blue and green Murloc cook- was opposite Mr. Smite, his lips moving rapidly but no sounds were making their way over to VanCleef.

_‘We’re finished’_.  The man thought angrily as his gut churned with ice.  ‘ _We were taken out in a single afternoon.  All the rest of my lieutenants are here too!  Shit!  They’ll never be able to get the rest of the men out in time!  How did this happen?!”_

“Well, go on then!”  Edwin snarled at the still masked intruders.  “Make yourselves _heroes_.”

――ᴖᴗ――

“I apologize for the subterfuge, Edwin.”  Tirion said as he removed the dark cloth that had kept his features concealed.  “But time is of the essence and we needed to ensure that you would _listen_.”

“Tirion Fordring?”  Edwin asked incredulously, his body going slack with shock.  “Of all the people to become _lapdogs_ of Stormwind I never suspected you, Fordring!”  The dark-haired captive laughed rather hysterically. “Our cause is just!  For you of all people…”  The man trailed off and began to laugh once more, the sound grating and humorless.

“Are you quite finished?”  Augusta demanded impatiently, causing the man to focus on her in confused bewilderment.

“What?”  Edwin asked rather incredulously.  _‘Who are these people?  Why do I know at least know of them?_ ’

“We believe that your cause is just, Edwin.”  Tirion began passionately.  “We also have uncovered information that might convince you to hear us out.”

“Untie me and I’ll think about it.”  Edwin snarled darkly.

Tirion seemed amused.  “I am hopeful, not a _fool_ , VanCleef.”

“You always were an irritating balance of kind and cruel.”  Edwin spat back, though some of his earlier heat had cooled somewhat.  “So, you’ve come into my base and routed us quite neatly.  What do you want, if not to kill us and take our heads to those honorless cowards?”

“I want to put you to work.”  Tirion said honestly, continuing his statement over Edwin’s predictable protests.  “And I am willing to front you the original price that Stormwind offered you if you stop this insanity and come work for me.”

Edwin promptly shut up and sucked in a sharp breath.

Tirion’s gaze remained steady as Edwin scrutinized him intently.

“If it were anyone else making me such a bald offer.”  The man said slowly after a few minutes of silent eye-warfare.  “I would spit in their eye and fall on my own dagger.  But you are _Tirion Fordring_ ; the man who refused to abandon his honor even after it cost him everything.  You would not come to me with an offer like this as a bribe from those dogs in Stormwind.  There must be something bigger going on.”  After a few more minutes of heavy contemplation VanCleef said.  “Untie me and allow my crew to speak- they must be under some sort of silencing magic- and we will discuss things as men.”

――ᴖᴗ――

A little bit later a large table had been commandeered and the Defias Brotherhood were on one side while the invaders were on the other.  They had only freed ten of the lieutenants- including VanCleef himself- so as not be overwhelmed in the event of a quote-unquote surprise attack.

“So, our proposal is that the Defias Brotherhood returns to its roots- as the Stonemasons Guild.”  Tirion held up a hand to forestall protests.  “I am also reforming the Knights of the Silver Hand and so any of your people who wish to fight can either form a militia or join my order- or even the Dawn.  All will be welcome in the reclaimed Hearthglen.”

“We are thieves and assassins.”  One of the Goblins sneered.  “Who would employ us?”

“I would.”  Tirion replied easily, chuckling lightly at their stunned, skeptical looks.  “Who better to infiltrate a base and gather information than a thief?  Who better to perform an assassination than an assassin?  While I have a strict code of honor, war is war.  Make no mistake- I intend to go to war with the Crusade just as I intend to go to war with the remaining Scourge.  Possibly the Black Dragonflight, if they truly have ensnared Bolvar with foul magic.”

“And the Horde?”  Mr. Smite asked brusquely.  The bovine-esque Tauren’s tone was empty and bitter, something that grieved Tirion greatly.

Thrall’s people- Thrall had written to Tirion of the joining of the Taurens to the new Horde- deserved better than living as little more than shadow dwellers, dependent on scraps of payment for dishonest work.

“The Silver Hand will accept all those who wish to fight for Azeroth.  I will not tolerate petty grudges.”  Tirion stated unquestionably as he caught and held the Tauren’s gaze for several long moments before he turned back to VanCleef.  “Surely your artisans would be happier working their crafts- and being properly paid.  Has your thirst for revenge against the Kingdom of Stormwind become so great that you would throw away an honest chance to reestablish yourselves purely out of spite?”

“Our hatred of Stormwind is unlikely to ever abate.”  Edwin VanCleef put forth firmly as he steepled his hands and peered intently at Tirion.  “And to be fair, I would have not even considered this offer- no matter the money- had it come from anyone but you, Lord Fordring.”  Edwin sighed heavily and placed both of his hands on the surface of the table, the splayed fingers steady even as he idly thought that they should be trembling.

“I appreciate your faith in me.”  Tirion said earnestly as he unrolled the map of Hearthglen.  “We believe that we can push the Crusade out of Hearthglen fairly easily with your help.   Taelan and I know Hearthglen like the back of our palms- establishing ourselves and routing any hidden pockets of Crusade members will be child’s play.  My friends-“  Tirion gestured towards his companions.  “-are certain that they can magically protect Hearthglen to keep out those who would seek to destroy us during the initial set up.  We will likely do a fair bit of damage as we retake the place from the Crusade.”  Tirion gave Edwin a fierce look.  “I imagine that we will do business with Alliance and Horde troops, but I intend to retake Hearthglen and use it as a place to train Knights as well move against threats to Azeroth as a whole- such as the Scourge.”

“So we would be the Stonemasons Guild again, only in Hearthglen.  The rebuilding will only take so long, Tirion.  Then what?”  Edwin demanded.

“Then we make new bases.”  Tirion replied easily.  “Mirrored ports, possibly even establishing a base in Northrend.  We know that Arthas ran off to Northrend with Illidan Stormrage hot on his heels.  I imagine that Northrend itself will eventually become a battlefield someday, even if it is not a clear and present danger at this very moment.”  Tirion’s eyes were bright with passion as he unrolled a few other maps and pointed to different locations.  “Think of the _good_ we can do together, Edwin.  Would you truly deny my offer simply for revenge against a Kingdom that seeks to only vilify you?  To use you as a scapegoat?” 

――ᴖᴗ――

Edwin’s lips thinned as his intelligent eyes flitted from map to map.  A long missed tingling feeling bubbled up inside his chest as his true passion- that of being an architect and engineer and builder- was reignited.  The excited energy of a new, challenging project- projects!- warring with the black desire for revenge.  Edwin glanced around at his lieutenants and was honestly surprised at how many of them looked just as torn as he felt.

They had killed many in their career as bandits, because they wanted to do as much damage to Stormwind as Stormwind had done to them.  It wasn’t right or just- it was just the only way they could think of to get back at the bastards who had used and abused their talents for a decade before tossing them aside like _garbage_.

As if Stormwind the Bastion of Human Resilience would even _exist_ without the Stonemason’ Guild and their _thousands_ of hours of hard, backbreaking work.

But this…..

Hearthglen could be a place to raise Vanessa, free of the constant danger she was in now.  Hearthglen was far enough removed for them to make- not really so much of a fresh start as a clean one.

Edwin knew that some of the Brotherhood would likely side with the Crusade and their honeyed rhetoric, but the majority of them just wanted closure to the Stormwind Debacle and to return to their trades.  With the black taste in peoples’ mouths for the Defias- not to mention anyone implied to be even remotely associated with the Stonemasons’ Guild and therefore Queen Tiffin’s death- artisan work was hard to come by unless a person could prove a link to the Dwarves’ Royal Stonecutters’ Society.

They were stuck in a self-destructive cycle and every day more people flocked to the cause. 

But to put all those people- all that talent- under the just and fair leadership of an honorable man such as _Tirion Fordring_ …….

Damn it all, but Edwin could almost _taste_ it. 

The freedom of flitting from site to site as his builders worked, peeking over his foreman’s shoulders and making small adjustments or brainstorming around unexpected problems.  His daughter- his happy little girl carefree and _safe_ \- free to bring him lunch or drag him home for dinner. 

His people happy.  Content.  Their families filling the air with the scents of bread and forge and _home_.

“You said that you would pay us the original price we were offered for Stormwind?”  Edwin asked eventually, mostly stalling for time while he attempted to dredge up a damn good reason to turn Tirion Fordring and his offer away.  “You do realize that it was a great deal of money.  Stormwind is a citadel with multiple districts.”

“I am aware.”  Tirion nodded agreeably.  “But my friends also have a few projects they would like your artisans’ assistance with and they are willing to pick up the slack that Stormwind left in an attempt to mend bridges.”

“Where are they from?”  Edwin demanded suddenly, an idea springing to mind that would break the deal readily.  “Are they Stormwind?”  He glared balefully at the older woman and the two teens just behind her.

The lady matched him, glare for glare.

“No.”  Tirion replied easily.  “I know not where they hail from- I wonder if they are perhaps from one of the isolated villages with ties to the old Arathor outlying territories.  You know as well as I do that not all the lines that splintered off from Arathor were accounted for.”  Tirion shrugged and rose to his feet.  “They assisted me in my time of need and are willing to help me take back my home.  For me, for now- that is enough.  Perhaps in time we will grow close enough to share such things with one another.”

“Hm.”  Edwin grunted as his latest attempt to find fault fell flat.

Tirion’s stare was steady.  Non-judgmental and patient as he waited for Edwin to make up his mind.

It reminded Edwin of days gone by- of a lifetime that had been ripped away from all of Azeroth without mercy.

Damn it all.  Damn Tirion Fordring.  Damn these bastards. 

Damn him and his fucking dreams that just wouldn’t fucking die.

“How the hell would you get us all the way to Hearthglen without being captured by Stormwind’s Army?”  Edwin grumbled as he tried to focus on logistics and why this _wouldn’t fucking work_.   “Let alone get us inside Hearthglen.  We’re shadow workers not army grunts.”

Tirion’s whole being seemed to brighten though he did not smile.  “Do I have your word, then, Guild Master?”

Edwin glanced at his lieutenants one last time, stalling for time as he ran the offer through his mind over and over, desperately searching for a good reason to tell Tirion Fordring to _shove the hell off_. 

His subordinates were excellent at concealing their emotions, but Edwin knew his people.  Knew them nearly better than they knew themselves and he could see the stubborn kernel of hop beneath their veneers of scorn, disgust, or indifference.

They were all far from heartless, soulless husks; no matter what actions they had been taking against the good people under Stormwind’s authority.

Eventually Edwin gave in.  Caving under the steady stare of a man who had proven that he would rather lose it all than bow his head and abandon his integrity. 

Tirion Fordring was an entirely different breed than any members of the Scarlet Crusade or the House of fucking Nobles.

_‘Damn it all.’_

“You do, Highlord Fordring.”

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	5. Protector's Pride

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 “Alright, folks!”  Sirius announced to the gathered people inside the tunnels.  He was thankful for Tirion Fordring’s steady presence.  It was four days after Edwin VanCleef had committed his Guild to the cause and they were readying for the assault on Hearthglen.

It amazed Sirius, really.  To see Tirion’s charisma in action.  What made it even better was that Tirion genuinely cared for these people- he learned their names, their stories, asked about their dreams and aspirations.  Tirion made no distinction between those who defected to those who had been raised in the hush-hush districts.  The Paladin cared for them all equally- believed in them all equally.

It made Sirius wonder if this was who Albus Dumbledore had been trying to be.  This steady bastion of kindness and courage and valor held together by frayed bonds and concealing a grief so deep it would swallow a lesser man whole.

“The Portals being opened on this end of the tunnel will be letting us out in secluded clearings that have been magically shielded.  Once you step out of the circle of glowing runes in your exit areas, you will be out in the open.”  Sirius continued easily, pushing his errant thoughts aside as he focused on his pre-prepared speech.  “You were all assigned a number that indicates which group you’re with.  We are opening up a total of seven portals for the shadow groups and then the main portal will open up in the middle of the cathedral, during the Saturday mandatory service.”

“We will be broadcasting the fact that we are accepting surrenders.”  Tirion stated calmly.  “Be advised that the Rangers- the little Goblin looking fellows- will be safeguarding the prisoners until we fully secure Hearthglen and Lady Augusta fully approves the protections on the holding cells.”

“What about the Crusade’s prisoners?”  Someone called out from the back.

“I will assess them after we have secured Hearthglen.”  Tirion replied just as Sirius gestured that it was time to begin.  “Remember that none of you are required to go forward with this assault unless you wish to.  You will be given safe haven in Hearthglen regardless.”

Some of the people shifted uneasily but no one stepped back behind the line that marked the noncombatant area, where most of the families of the fighters were milling about nervously.  All of the Brotherhood’s assets had been called back to the Deadmines base, in preparation for move to Hearthglen.

“Fight in whichever way complements your style best but fight with honor.”  Tirion said as Hermione began to cast the first Portal.  “Not all of the Crusade members may be there under their own volition.  Given the proper chance they might choose a better path than the one they currently find themselves on.  Light be with you.  Light be with us all.”

――ᴖᴗ――

The sounds of explosions, the clashing of swords, and the shouts of the combatants echoed, even down in the underground prison cells.

The scent of death was even more prevalent here than it was above.  The smell of voided bowels no longer new and mingling freely with the coppery tang of freshly shed blood.  Rather the heavy air was motionless; the smells amplified even as the decay made them all the more unbearable. 

The air itself felt as if was trying to suffocate them the deeper they traveled, its insidious claws sinking inside their lungs and refusing to be exhaled.

Harry and the others had never been so grateful for the Bubble-Head Charm, even if it did not manage to filter out all of the scents.  It at least protected their eyes some as well as their noses and mouths.

“I am going to need a thousand showers to wash this place from my skin.  Let alone my _hair_.”  Hermione muttered disgustedly as she refreshed the charm for the boys as they checked yet another set of cells.

There were a lot of undead prisoners.  Not all of them mindless.  It had become readily apparent that this was not a place of holding prisoners, it was a torture chamber and every cell a gateway to a new level of wickedness and depravity.

“I don’t suppose that you would feel like setting me free.”  The voice was unmistakably a man’s, deep and smooth despite his body being what amounted to a decaying corpse with some sort of glowing ooze flowing through his frame instead of blood.  “Those _peasants_ seized me on my way back from a meeting in Orgrimmar with the Warchief of the new Horde and I need to report in to my Lady.”

“The Banshee Queen?”  Hermione queried as the boys moved forward to undo the restraints.  The girl shook her head shortly and smiled at the undead man.  “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until Master Fordring approves your release, but I imagine it won’t take all that much longer.  We’re retaking Hearthglen much quicker than anticipated.  There have been loads of people who surrendered instead of fighting against Tirion and Taelan.”

“Ah.”  The undead man said interestedly as Neville held him at wandpoint and Harry began to cast the few healing spells that they had found would actually heal an undead.  “So Tirion Fordring has once again picked up his blade?  That is welcome news.”

“Is it?”  Harry asked blandly before his mouth remembered to check his brain for approval.

“It is.”  The undead man answered blithely even as Hermione lightly punched Harry in the arm.  “Master Fordring is known for his honorable actions and his ability to think outside of normal conventions.  I imagine that my Lady will be quite pleased to hear of his return to the fight.”

One of Dobby’s Rangers popped in and slipped on the magic bindings they were using for all the prisoners.

(The Blacks had such _interesting_ heirlooms and arcane magic was truly frightening in its potential.)

“Ah, well, we must be moving on.”  Hermione said with a small smile.  “But I will inform Master Fordring of your rather pressing need to return to your Lady.  Tirion is good friends with the Horde Warchief, Thrall, and I know he will want to be informed of your timely need.”

“Thank you, my dear.”  The undead man said, bowing lightly at the waist just before the Ranger popped away with the properly secured prisoner.

“Well, that was different.”  Hermione muttered to the boys as she tagged the cell as having been checked and they moved on.

“Story of our life, Mia love.  Story of our life.”  Neville said, bemusement coloring his tone as he unlocked the next cell and they readied themselves once more.

――ᴖᴗ――

The siege of Hearthglen ended up being less of a siege and more of a slightly violent coup d'état, when all was said and done.

The holdouts of the Scarlet Crusade were truly formidable in their willpower and dedication but truthfully over half of the fighting forces surrendered nearly immediately upon seeing that it was the Fordrings leading the assault.

By week’s end most of the prisoners had been either put out of their misery or released.  More than a few Dawn members or Brotherhood members had been liberated as well.  A number of the prisoners- some of which were Trolls or Tauren or even Night Elves- asked to stay and join the newly reforming Order of the Silver Hand.  From the testimonies they had gathered it seemed as if the Crusade had a knack for targeting outsiders or those who would not be missed to gather their information from- or simply practice their gruesome ‘techniques’ upon.

Erecting rudimentary wards for Hearthglen was rather simple after making the wards for Karazhan.  The wards were definitely basic- true, solid wards would take much more time to make proper Ward Anchors for- but they would hold well enough for the next few months while Tirion and Taelan whipped the recruits into shape and weeded out those who were unfit for the Silver Order.

Of course things never run entirely smoothly whenever the children of Karazhan were involved.

Murphy’s Law seemed to have followed the magicals through the Twisting Nether, Sirius would later swear.

Loudly and virulently.

――ᴖᴗ――

“Ishnu-alah, friend.”  A tall, blue haired, purple skinned man with markings on his face and elongated ears greeted Harry a week after Hearthglen had been properly fortified by the victors.

The teens were working to assist the new Silver Hand initiates in registering.  They were behind a long table on the second floor of a mostly-intact building assisting the vetted initiates- that process was taking place outside- in completing their registration paperwork.  Several members of the Guild were nearby, working as translators so that all of the paperwork was filled out in Common.

Hermione was in her element near the entrance of the room, copying forms and answering questions.  The boys were accepting the filled out registration forms at the other end of the large room, near the doors that would lead the new initiates to the third floor where the new initiates would be assigned to their cluster by Tirion or Edwin VanCleef.  Remus was in charge of supplying the new initiates with their tabard vouchers, just in front of aforementioned door.

Equipment Administration would be backed up quite a bit for a while, but on the third floor the initiates were being issued tokens for a few simple training or working outfits along with their housing orders.   Having a few outfits, housing, as well as free access to training and medical facilities should hold the new initiates over until the reconstruction was complete and the artisans could get to work on clothing their new brothers and sisters in earnest.

“Uhm, hello to you as well?”  Harry replied rather uncertainly as he glanced up from the man’s registration packet.  “Can I help you with something?”

“I mean no disrespect, friend, but I was hoping that you would indulge my curiosity?”  The Night Elf queried somewhat hesitantly.

“Sure.  I’m not all that informed but I’ll certainly try.”  Harry replied with a friendly grin.

“I was in my cell and I noticed your- well, I am uncertain what exactly you would call it- but it seemed to be made of Elune’s light and radiated peace.”  The man seemed nearly awed as he spoke the words, a soft smile coming to his face.  “And the shape of it!  It was nearly exactly the same- if much smaller- as the image of Lord Marlorne.”

“Malorne?”  Harry parroted somewhat curiously as he racked his mind for an answer as to _why_ that name felt irritatingly familiar.  “Why do I feel as if I should know that name?”

The Night Elf smiled a bit brighter and seemed to perk up a bit.  “In Night Elf legend Lord Malorne was the lover of our goddess, Elune.  Their son Lord Cenarius is quite revered by my people- his form that of a part human, part stag after his respective parents- as he taught the Night Elves the ways of the forest.”

“Cenarius was the progenitor of the Druids?”  Neville whisper-exclaimed excitedly, earning a brief nod and a smile from the Night Elf.

“Aah.  As the goddess of the moon Elune could not abandon her duties to raise Lord Cenarius so it is believed that the Dragon Aspect of the Emerald Dream, Lady Ysera, assisted Lord Malorne in raising Lord Cenarius.  Lady Ysera and Lord Malorne were great friends- partners in safeguarding the Emerald Dream and Azeroth, according to legend.  Druids slumber for long periods of time so that they might serve Lady Ysera inside the Dream.  Lord Malorne’s physical form was lost to us long ago, though Druidic lore says that Lord Malorne is but asleep inside the Emerald Dream, under the watchful eye of Lady Ysera.” 

“Wow.”  Harry whispered, amazed.

The man shook his head and refocused on the teen with a rather sheepish smile.  “Lord Malorne also disrupted two civil wars among my people, as his skill as a diplomat is said to be unmatched.  I was hoping that you might consider allowing me to write to my brother- who is a Druid of the Cenarion Circle- about the rather fascinating events.  Your unique ability is quite fascinating, you see, and I know my brother would be quite keen on seeing it for himself, if you would be amendable.”

Neville made a strange sound of longing beside Harry; who studiously ignored aforementioned sound and focused wholly on the Night Elf in front of him lest he burst out laughing at an entirely inappropriate moment.

“Wow.  That’s sort of brilliant.”  Harry muttered as he quickly stamped the man’s papers completed and filed them properly.  Seeing that the man was more interested in fighting than Guild work Harry handed him a magically-generated copy of the Silver Hand manual instead of a Guild handbook.  “I don’t mind at all, but you might want to check with Gran- that’s Lady Augusta- when you go upstairs.  She’s the leader of our Order at the moment since Sirius is accompanying Taelan Fordring and the former Dawn and Brotherhood prisoners to report in to the Argent Dawn at Light’s Hope Chapel about- well, all _this_.” 

Harry waved his hand sort of limply, to indicate the room at large, causing the man to chuckle softly as he inched toward Remus.

“I shall request her permission, then.”  The man said in farewell.  “May the stars guide you.”

“You too.”  Harry replied distractedly as he began to look over the next packet.

Next to him, Neville rolled his eyes and huffed an incredulous laugh.

――ᴖᴗ――

“It’s _so_ good to be home.”  Hermione moaned happily as she allowed the portal to close behind her with a satisfied crackle of arcane energy.

“Seconded.”  Harry grunted as he set down the heavy bag and flopped down onto the plush rush with a happy sigh.  “We were only gone a few weeks- well a month and some change, really- but boy-oh-boy did I miss this place something fierce.”

“Thirded?”  Neville offered sleepily from his prone position on a nearby fainting couch.  “Well, whatever.  Home is bloody brilliant.”

“I don’t want to hear it from you three.”  Sirius grumbled half-heartedly from his slouched position against one of the Entrance Hall pillars.  The adults had travelled back a few hours prior to the teens to ready for the Stormwind journey, the teens having been under the watchful eye of Tirion Fordring.  “You brats get to stay here while the rest of us get to go unmask the dragon.”  Sirius paused for a moment and scowled.  “Well, except Moony who will be gallivanting off to the Abbey of Crazies with Taelan.”

“It’s been _weeks_ ; wouldn’t she have left already or something?”  Neville asked somewhat groggily.  “And that’s new.  Change of plans?”

“Ah!  But our friend the possible-dragoness really has no idea that her position has been compromised.”  Sirius sang cheerily as he shoved his hands into his pockets and crossed his legs casually.  “The information we came across was from the Crusade, not her.  While the Crusade has a presence in Dustwallow Marsh none of their scouts have made it back to report that Hearthglen has fallen.  They might know about Taelan’s defection but all of this Tirion-Taelan-Defias-Hearthglen stuff has happened in the last month.  Moony was supposed to accompany us to Stormwind, but instead he will be Porting our Hearthglen friends to Tirisfal to strike out at the heart of the Crusade.  Given the amount of undeath going on- especially in Tirisfal- Moony will be overseeing the burning of the bodies.  Magical fire to prevent any weird voodoo, you know.  Magi are pretty scarce around here nowadays and Tirion actually asked for one of us, so that’s how that happened.”

“It seems like this Crusade nonsense has been going on so much longer than that.”  Harry grumbled drowsily.  “And Mia and Gran taught us how to make Portals, finally.  Nev and I still need a Beacon to aim our spells at, though.”

“It does, doesn’t it?”  Hermione mused as she began organizing stacks of paperwork she pulled from the depth of her charmed satchel, her back leaned up against the fainting couch Neville was currently dozing on.  “And you two still know more magic than most.”

“At any rate, not nearly enough time has passed for little miss dragon- we’re pretty certain that she’s a dragon and not just a human in league with a dragon thanks to some sneaky maneuvering from Dobby and his Rangers; have I mentioned how irreplaceable those little guys are lately?- to give up her long game and fly the coop.”  Sirius explained as watched the teens with a warm smile curling at his lips.

“Oh!”  Hermione exclaimed, sitting forward a bit as she locked her intent gaze on Sirius.  “Have we decided what we’re going to do if she turns out to be a Black Dragonflight member for certain?”

Sirius sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair agitatedly.  “We feel as if we owe the Titans to at least _try_ to help the Black Dragonflight recover their roots.  And by we, I mean we adults- you kids have been far too busy for impromptu War Councils here lately.  Anyways, Remus put forth the idea that the nasty Void Lord-esque Old Gods were responsible for the corruption of the Black Dragonflight Aspect.  Remus theorized that the effect was like an infection that filtered down from the ‘head’ of the flight and infects the baby dragons from their conception, way before they ever hatch.  Like the Void Lords tried to do to that one world soul back before Sargeras went all Flaming Chaos.”

“Well, the Titans did destroy the Black Empire before they ordered Azeroth.  So maybe the corruption of the Black Aspect had something to do with them?”  Harry offered sportingly.  “I mean, the Titans imprisoned the other three after defeating Y’Shaa-what’s-his-face and realizing the corruption had spread too deep to remove without killing Azeroth’s world soul.  But that means that the Old Gods- creations of the Void Lords- still exist on Azeroth.“

“Exactly our thoughts.”  Sirius sighed as he crossed his arms and rearranged himself a bit more comfortably.  “So then the conversation turned to ‘how can we possibly help?’.”

“We’d have to capture a Black dragon and imprison it or something, so that we could test the theory.  Like making a poison antidote.”  Neville muttered, wrinkling his nose as he tossed an arm over his eyes and tried to think his way through the conundrum.

“Pretty much.”  Sirius admitted rather reluctantly.  “It’s not really a _nice_ option but Remus pointed out that one of the common themes of the universe is balance.  If we could lock down a Black dragon or two and keep them somewhere isolated we might have a chance to somehow eat away at the poison that infects them, so to speak.”

“How?”  Hermione asked as she flipped over a sheet of paper and sketched out some notes.

“Runes, wards, and…”  Sirius hesitated for a few moments before he continued.  “That one Night Elf guy- Flylerian Nightwing, by the way- wrote his cousin about Harry’s _Patronus_.  The cousin, come to find out, is not just a random shmoe in the Cenarion Circle but the freaking leader of the only town in Druid Nirvana- aka Nighthaven in the district of Moonglade, near the Night Elf island of Teldrassil.  They are quite excited to meet you brats, particularly Harry.” 

Sirius huffed a disbelieving laugh as he mock-glared at his Godson, who was peeking up at the elder man with one bright, unrepentant, amused green eye.

“Lucky.”  Neville grumbled lightly as sulked a bit.

_He_ was the one who wanted to be a Druid, damn it all!

“Oh, don’t turn too green over there Mister Wanna-be Druid.”  Sirius teased the couch resident with more than a little glee in his voice.  “Apparently your cat _Patronus_ is also quite exciting.  There are whole different orders of Druids who revere either form.  Druids of the Talon, Druids of the Claw, etcetera, etcetera.  The cousin-“  Sirius racked his brain for a minute before he make a noise of enlightenment and continued.  “-one Rabine Saturn-something- is quite keen to meet you both.”

“And this ties into the Black Dragonflight problem how?”  Hermione prodded gently.

“Dragon problem.  Right.  Focus Padfoot.”  Sirius mumbled as veered back towards the original topic.  “Elune’s influence- she’s the goddess of the moon, according to the Night Elves- is primarily associated with peace, healing, and growth.  She supposedly takes the form of a beautiful woman who can scarcely be seen because of the white light that surrounds her.  Anyways, we think that if maybe we can make a scheme- using Runes, wards, and whatever else- that leeches dark energy and recycles it as Light energy- or even neutral energy- we can heal the Black dragons, or at least save the eggs.  It’s not unheard of, there are lots of Cursebreaking spells and whatnot to that effect.  Azeroth’s magic is pretty advanced in some areas, but they do not have the linguistic options and potential Rune sequences that we do, either.  Meh, there’s an upside and a downside to everything, I guess.”

“The issues are-”  Remus said as he came into view, a study bag slung over his shoulder and his full battle gear fitted snugly around his lean frame.   A little over year on Azeroth had seen Remus putting on quite a bit of weight, making him look far more healthy and youthful than his formerly haggard, tired appearance allowed.  Even his self-inflicted scars had lightened considerably, allowing him to appear much closer to Sirius’ age than Augusta’s, a welcome change for the thirty-something man.

Not that any of them would ever say that Augusta looked old.  She was still quite spry despite rapidly approaching her centennial birthday.

Speaking of the woman, Augusta- dressed and ready to depart for Stormwind- entered the Hall just behind Remus. 

“- we have no idea if it will work or how quickly a dragon’s eggs hatch.  We also would want to keep the eggs warm with fire that is not tainted by dark, malevolent energy- so we would need to separate the eggs from their bearer.”  Remus paused for a brief moment before he wryly continued.  “Or sire, if a sire is needed because we aren’t exactly professionals in the area of Azerothian dragon reproductive cycles.”

“Could we make them sleep?”  Hermione asked attentively, her notes balanced against her drawn knees, ignoring the boys’ snorts of amusement.  “Something along the lines of the Draught of the Living Death, only modified somehow?  Give them more time to heal?  The Draught negates the need for food and water, but how would we manage to tie it all together?  I we somehow compressed time or something would the runes and wards actually be able to affect the Draught-dosed dragons?”

“That….is an idea.”  Remus replied, flicking a quick glance at Sirius and Augusta.  “If we unmask an actual Black we can track her down- mostly because we already know her base is somewhere near Dustwallow Marsh.  We would need to find a place and prepare it for the arrival of eggs and dragon before we even considered sneaking inside, of course-“

“The Draught was based on a time manipulation ward scheme that was thought to be lost.  Being as how a Longbottom invented the Draught, it obviously was not lost to _us_.”  Augusta interjected mildly before she nodded sharply at the two adult males and turned her gaze towards the teenagers.  “Homework for you lot.  Go to the Maiden’s room and search the old texts ‘Magicke of the Desperate’ and a plain leather-bound book with the initials ‘JRL’ monogrammed on them.  They are written in a mix of Gaul Latin and Olde English but the origins of the ward the potion was based on should be in there somewhere, if we have any information on it at all from the Longbottom Library.”

“The Black Dragonflight were originally the caretakers of the earth.  Neltharion the Earth-Warder was blessed by Khaz’goroth, the Shaper and Forger of Worlds.”  Hermione murmured softly as she tapped a pen lightly against her pursed lips, having scribbled down the reading assignments on a spare bit of paper.  “From what I remember from the _encounter_ the Black Dragonflight were originally omnivores- they ate fish and small animals that typically dwell within the earth.  I call them omnivores because I think I recall them sometimes consuming certain types of earth or plants that tend to grow down.  After their corruption they turned into pure carnivores- they even have been known to eat other dragons!”

“Not all that dissimilar from the massive, pre-Aspect proto-drake; that Galakrond guy.”  Harry mentioned lightly, his not-so-secret love for history shining through. “The Aspects impressed the Titans by defeating the great, hulking beast.”  Harry tapped his lip thoughtfully.  “Come to think of it, Galakrond was a carnivore- he even ate other dragons.  And he existed as a sort of lieutenant during the Black Empire.  While the Titans were wise and powerful, they definitely weren’t all knowing.  I know Neltharion has done more than a little damage to the other Aspects and Azeroth as a whole- but I find the actions of his only surviving consort….suspicious.”

“Sintu- ah,…..Sintharia!”  Hermione puzzled out with a troubled frown.  “What about her?  She was the only consort to survive attempted…well, mating after Neltharion was driven mad and changed.”

“Exactly.”  Harry said with a grimace as he rolled over and stared up at the stone ceiling with a concentrated frown.  “If you read the accounts and apply our _special knowledge_ to the texts, the story has several possible divergent points.  Neltharion was close to the Blue Aspect, Malygos, the Spell-Weaver and after all was said and done the Blue Dragonflight was nearly eradicated by the Black Dragonflight.”

“But?”  Hermione prompted gently.

“But I wonder how the confidant of the Aspect tasked with safeguarding _magic and lore_ ended up becoming Deathwing.”  Harry puzzled out aloud.  “While I don’t want to blame any potential victims- Deathwing is a rather malevolent being, after all- Sintharia was _not_ the Prime Consort of the Black Dragonflight, no matter what the historical accounts say, the _dream_ shows that to be a lie.  In fact, if you watch the _dream_ in a Pensive you can see several occasions of her being especially spiteful or disrespectful to Ysera or Alexstrasza.” 

“Did you know that those two are actually sisters?”  Neville’s partially muffled voice commented rather offhandedly.  “It didn’t really _click_ for me until after we started to transcribe the _dream_ using a Pensive.  We still have a long ways to go with that project, come to think of it.” 

Hermione made a small noise of enlightenment, but Harry merely nodded and continued on with his train of thought.

“Neltharion, on the other hand, was quite warm to both women-dragons and he obviously respected them.  It just seems strange for him to turn around and consider them ‘petty slaves; only useful for the purpose of mating’.”  Harry made a disgusted face as he spoke, guaranteeing that his words fairly oozed with the loathing he felt for such an appalling statement.  “Let alone _why_ Neltharion would come to possess- or create- something like the Dragon Soul.  He was known for his wisdom and counsel!  Why would he help make an artifact as vile as the Dragon’s Soul!?”

Hermione nodded slowly, a troubled expression upon her face.  “Sintharia was quite vocal about her dissatisfaction of the Black Dragonflight’s ‘lack’ of status.  She also was quite cold to Malygos’ Prime Consort, Sindragosa.  Come to think of it, she even actively worked to bring down the Kirin Tor before the opening of the Dark Portal _and_ she had a special affinity for what we would call ‘cursed objects’.” 

Sirius made a noise of curiosity.

Hermione glanced at Harry for a moment before she resettled her concerned gaze on the papers before her.  “Galakronia, Neltharion’s Prime Consort, isn’t even mentioned in any of the modern texts, so I have no idea what happened to her.  According to the _dream_ she was Galakrond’s only female offspring to survive his rather brutal parenting techniques.”  The young woman wrinkled her nose in disgust.  “Galakrond was very a ’la Ancient Greece in that he had a predilection for eating his young- most especially his daughters.  Even in the dream, she just vanishes and Sintharia takes her place as the Queen of the Black Dragonflight.  I suppose we’ll never know for certain what happened to her, but-“

“I believe I can offer some insight, young mage.”

All the teens stiffened and scrambled to a ready position at the pronouncement by the utterly unexpected voice.  Sirius leapt into a battle-ready position while making a furious hissing sound that would make Crookshanks proud.

“Who are you and how are you here?”  Sirius snarled heatedly as he stalked towards the tall, bronze-skinned, Night Elf looking male with the molten golden eyes.

“Peace.”  The man alleged, his voice entirely composed and unthreatened even as power beyond any mortal’s reckoning laced his words.  “I am here only to ensure that the timeline remains unbroken.”

“You must be Lord Nozdormu.  The Timeless One.”  Hermione said slowly as she shifted closer to Neville and Harry’s battle-ready forms.  “You rarely- if ever- interfere in the affairs of mortals.  Why are you here?”

The man nodded regally in Hermione’s direction but kept his unwavering gaze steadily affixed to Sirius’ tensed, battle—ready form.  “I am and that is true.  However, your arrival has irrevocably altered the destiny of Azeroth.  Due to these changes, I have been forced to interfere so that the timeline might reconcile itself.”

“That does not explain _how you are here_.”  Sirius snarled dangerously, his blade glinting threateningly in the hall’s soft light.

“The simplest explanation is that I know the Secret.”  Nozdormu explained calmly, his hands spread out before him in an unthreatening manner. 

“Impossible.”  Sirius growled.

“I confess that I had forgotten how it felt to be so unfamiliar to you.”  Nozdormu mentioned placidly, though a slight frown marred his face.  “The Order of the Phoenix has been allies to myself and the Bronze Dragonflight for so long I tend to forget that, at one point, we were unknown to one another.  To the point that my knowing the Secret of Karazhan was cause for alarm.”

Sirius’ blade did not waver, but he began to look more thoughtful than angry.  “Why, exactly, are you here, then?  Should time not be left alone?  And how do you know that name?”

“Very much so.”  Nozdormu agreed emphatically.  “But there are times when anomalies occur then time must be meddled with to be properly preserved.  And that is what your Order is called.  Hm.  Though apparently not yet.  Perhaps that is another anomaly I must attend to in order to preserve the timeline.”

“This is giving me a bloody headache.”  Harry muttered peevishly as he relaxed slightly.  Not entirely dropping his guard, of course, but relaxing it a bit.

“Time is often disconcerting, even for immortals.”  Nozdormu stated serenely.  “The intricate complexities of time are part of the reason why my Timewardens are so strict with particularly adventurous magi and their attempts to _meddle_.”

“Terrible things happen to wizards who meddle with time.”  Augusta quoted as she and Remus stepped forward, their stances not quite hostile, but not welcoming either.

“Indeed.  A worthy adage.”  Nozdormu agreed calmly. 

Augusta stared hard at the man for several long, tense moments before she nodded briskly and turned on her heel.  “I presume this would be a better discussion to have in the War Room.  Come.”

――ᴖᴗ――

“So Deathwing is the manifestation of the madness inflicted on Neltharion by C’thun and N’Zoth?  Two of the Azerothian Old Gods?”  Harry squawked incredulously.  “But Deathwing and Neltharion are not the same being?”

“That is correct.”  Nozdormu replied calmly, his voice having neither risen nor lowered since his arrival.

Honestly the man- dragon- was so even-tempered it was nearly _maddening_.

“And somehow this is our doing?”  Neville asked skeptically.

Nozdormu nodded gravely.  “In most of the timelines prior to your arrival this fact was never known before the Dragon Aspects achieved their Great Purpose.  However, as the timeline of Azeroth shifts to accommodate you, so too does the Great Purpose and the role of the Aspects.”  The dragon gave them all a piercing stare and seemed to have something to say, but in the end he merely closed his mouth and nodded gracefully at Hermione.

“But there are only six of us.”  Hermione pointed out reasonably, her brow wrinkled in deep thought.  “How can we cause so much chaos to the timeline of an _entire world_?”

“Make enough ripples and you change the tide.”  Harry murmured quietly.  “I forget where I heard it, but it has always stuck with me.”  The young man tapped his cheek thoughtfully and stared at the table for a few moments.  “If I had to hazard a guess I would say that my hypothesis on Sintharia’s role in Neltharion’s corruption is probably the crux of the matter.”

“It is.”  Nozdormu confirmed steadily. 

Harry’s eyes were sharp, intent as he studied the Dragon Aspect.  “I am unsure of how, exactly, all of this is coming together for me, but I think I understand.”

“I am not surprised.”  Nozdormu replied with the barest hint of a smile curling at his lips.

“Well, pup.  Care to share with the class?”  Sirius asked, mostly amused even as he was still unsettled by the presence of the Bronze Aspect.

“Well, it makes sense that Lord Nozdormu would appear prior to your unmasking of the possible Black Dragon in Stormwind.”  Harry replied thoughtfully.  “Especially since we were already considering interfering- most pointedly, by manipulating time.”

Nozdormu nodded neutrally.

“Wait.”  Hermione said suddenly, narrowing her eyes at the Bronze Dragon suspiciously.  “There’s more than one way for history to be written- and it’s _always_ written by the victors.  That is, though who survived to tell their stories.”

“Too bad there’s so many who are presumed dead.  Bet they could clear up some of the fiction and ambiguity.”  Neville grumbled grouchily, causing Harry to suddenly yelp and sit up straight.

“’Presumed dead’.”  Harry said with sudden comprehension, glancing about the room as he experienced a mental breakthrough.  “What happens if a person or object ceases to exist because _they were moved to a different time_.  Say, a specially fortified cave lined with specialty Runes and wards to help them heal?”

Nozdormu’s expression did not change, but the lines around his eyes crinkled in such a way that they indicated his approval.

“That explains so much!”  Hermione exclaimed as she glanced at Harry and Neville’s dumbfounded expression with a wide smile.  “A vertical shift along a timeline.”

“ _’Deathwing is the manifestation of the madness inflicted on Neltharion by C’thun and N’Zoth’_.”  Neville quoted somewhat weakly.  “What if Neltharion disappeared and Deathwing took his place?  Energy cannot be destroyed, but what if the ‘sickness’ was expelled?”

“A nexus point is a point in time that must happen.”  Hermione offered as she scribbled down notes on a sheet of paper.  “Deathwing’s actions are a part of history- ergo they have happened.  But Lord Nozdormu made the separation between Deathwing and Neltharion is quite clear, thus it is possible for them to not be the same person.” 

“Misinformation and flat-out speculation turned to fact simply due to withstanding the test of time.”  Harry picked up eagerly, snatching a piece of paper from Hermione and scribbling down his own notes.  “And since the people they wrote about weren’t there to defend themselves…..”

“Obviously there is much work to be done.”  Augusta stated briskly.  “Will you be staying, Lord Nozdormu?”

“No.  My purpose has been completed.  I shall return when the time is right to take action.”  Nozdormu replied calmly as his form began to flicker.  “Until then, my friends.”

Then his form burst into a twisting vortex of golden sand that disappeared into nothingness.

“Cheery fellow.”  Sirius grunted rather irritably as he leaned back and crossed his arms in front of his chest.  “Now, does anyone care to explain to dear old Padfoot _what the bloody hell all of that was about?”_

――ᴖᴗ――

“Joy.”  Harry groaned somewhat theatrically as he glared at his grinning Godfather a few hours after Nozdormu’s departure, all of Karazhan’s residents once again gathered in the Entrance Hall to see the adults off.  “Are you sure you don’t need me to be a dragon decoy?  Errand boy?  Tribute to Ma?”

“You’ll survive, Harry dear.”  Augusta promised him with a grin.  “Now, we’re off!”

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to tickle a sleeping dragon, Gran?”  Neville asked his Gran with a grin that barely concealed his worry.

“But your dear Gran isn’t tickling a sleeping dragon, dear.”  Augusta replied blithely as she checked her reflection in her small compact’s mirror.  “I am going to walk up to a fully cognizant one and unveil her for a whole kingdom to see.  Using an herb bundle and doctored hand lotion.”

“That makes me feel _so_ much better.”  Neville grumbled lowly as the adults _Apparated_ out.

“They’ll be alright.”  Hermione told the boys cheerfully, doing her best to keep their spirits up.  “Besides we have old texts to go through!  Wards to plan and plots to hatch!  Time will fly by, lickety-split!”

Both boys groaned in persecuted tandem, causing the young woman to huff an amused laugh and pull herself to her feet so she could-

“Hermione Jane Granger!”  Harry fairly shrieked as Hermione’s _Levicorpus_ grabbed him by the ankle and dangled him upside down.  “Put me down this instant!  I’m going to _neuter_ that mutt!  Or dye that old wolf sparkly pink!  Whichever one of them taught you this blasted spell!”

“Not a chance!”  She parried cheerfully as she took careful aim and turned Neville into a sheep with an arcane spell she had been practicing with a former Kirin Tor apprentice during her downtime in Hearthglen.

“Baaaaa.  Baaaaaaaaa.”  The tiny sheep cried pitifully as Hermione gently patty its fluffy coat and sauntered on by, headed for the Library.

The House Elves giggled at the sight of the upside down, cursing Harry and the hastily scampering, wide-eyed sheep trailing behind the very smug young mage.

Hermione felt exactly zero sympathy.  If Harry truly wanted down he’d remember that his wand was strapped to his bloody forearm.

――ᴖᴗ――

Taelan wiped the dripping sweat from his brow as he stood over the corpses of Renault Mograine and Sally Whitemane.

Both of whom he had known as a child and who were now dead at his own hand.  Well, his and Champion Dawnbringer’s hands as the Argent Dawn and Silver Hand forces had battled the Scarlet Crusade soldiers that Whitemane had called to aid two besieged Scarlet Commanders.

_‘How did it come to this?_ ’ Taelan thought sadly as Champion Dawnbringer moved forward to confirm the death of the duo. 

“Alright there, Taelan?”  Remus asked the young man gently.

Taelan offered the man a tired, weary smile.  “As alright as can be expected, I suppose.  I still find myself at quite a loss at how I ever found the Crusade’s teachings to be….palatable.”

“When you surround yourself with variations of the same voice for an extended amount of time, it’s amazing what your mind will allow you to rationalize.”  Remus told the young man kindly as he reached out a hand and helped the kneeling Paladin to his feet.  “Counsel is best attained by those who have diverse viewpoints, so that you might see sides to the story that you would not have thought of on your own.”

“Well spoken, Master Lupin.”  Raymond George approved from just behind the two, causing them to turn towards the man and smile in relief.

“I’m glad you see you are well, Lord George.”  Remus replied warmly, clasping forearms with the man briefly and then moving aside for Taelan.  “While the battle for the Cathedral was no laughing matter, I could hear the baying of the hounds all the way in here.”

Lord Raymond George, the High Champion-Commander of the Argent Dawn, grimaced lightly.  “It took quite the effort, but we managed to subdue the beasts and win the Armory.  The Brotherhood is quite confident that they will be able to break the conditioning on the animals given some time and effort.”  The man smiled gratefully at Remus before continuing.  “I was met with a messenger from Maxwell- that is, Champion Tyrosus, who was in charge of the Library contingent- that the Library is now ours as well.  According to the messenger, your peculiar Runewards were vital in preventing the zealots from destroying much of the information in the Library and none of them managed to open Portals to escape through either.  I will be certain to highlight your irreplaceable assistance in my report to Highlord Fordring.”

“My family and I were happy to help.”  Remus replied, highly amused at the name the pre-made temporary wards had apparently acquired.  They didn’t have a very long shelf life but they were essentially ward schemes tied to a parchment.  Breaking the binding rune on the seal activated the wards and they would hold until the magic powering them faded.  The ones that had been used in this offensive were actually prototypes that had been thrown together on the fly, so Remus was genuinely happy that they had worked.  “And you realize that Tirion continues to reiterate that he’s not a ‘Highlord’ anymore, right?”

“Indeed.”  The tall, broad-shouldered man with dark brown hair, full beard, and light blue eyes replied amusedly.  The Argent Dawn leader smiled wolfishly at Remus before he added.  “And I will continue to call him that until he accepts my request to merge the Dawn with the Silver Hand.”

Remus released a delighted bark of laughter while Taelan chuckled at his side.  “I see.”  Remus admitted with a grin.  “Well, then I won’t stand in your way.”

“High-Champion George!”  A panicked voice called out from the entrance of the Cathedral.  The man ran to meet the four men gathered around the steps to the stage.  “Lieutenant Bigglezink needs you in the Graveyard, sirs! She said as soon as possible!”

“What is it, Briggs?”  George urged the panting messenger.  “Why does Betina need me?”

The man grimaced and his tanned skin turned a chalky white color.  “To be honest, Lord George I don’t know how to describe it.”  The man glanced at Remus and then Taelan for a long moment before quietly adding.  “I, like more than a few others, was highly skeptical of the accusations made by Lord Taelan and Lord Sirius at Light’s Hope Chapel, just before the Crusade was expelled.  I thought that the Crusade- as a bastion of the Light- couldn’t possibly be evil, no matter what so-called evidence had been presented.”  The man’s lips compressed into a grim slash and his hazel eyes were haunted as he looked up at High-Champion George.  “Now, sir?  Now I think of the Scarlet Crusade in the same manner that I think of Prince Arthas.”

Raymond George gave the man a compassionate, but grave look.  “As a member of the Argent Dawn you know that to serve the Light is to uphold your honor.  The Crusade allowed their passion to overcome their honor and in doing so they became no less evil than the darkness they fought.  Remember that Briggs.  A man cannot carry the true will of the Light if his soul is black with vengeance.  Righteous retribution is honorable; revenge that requires one to forsake all bonds of brotherhood is not a path blessed by the Light.”

“And the brotherhood is founded on our code of honor, courage, and commitment.”  Briggs sighed heavily before he gave High-Champion George a small smile.  “I suppose I still have much to learn, High-Champion.”

“A truly honorable man is always learning, Briggs.”  The Argent Dawn leader encouraged the other with a warm smile and a friendly squeeze to the younger man’s shoulder as he proceeded towards the door.  “To cease learning is to cease living.”

“Too true, brother.  Too true.”  Champion Dawnbringer said with a deep laugh as he, too, clasped Brigg’s shoulder in a friendly manner as he passed the man by.  “I, myself, hold no small amount of regret for my part in defending the Crusade’s actions these past few years.  But I can either learn from this experience or I can grow bitter and never move on from it.  Learning is painful in this instance, but I will be a wiser man for it.”

Remus also smiled at the man as well as he moved to follow High-Champion George and Champion Dawnbringer, the startled man coming to his senses and scurrying forward to lead the way.

As they walked they passed corpses or wounded men crying out in pain.  More than a few broken souls were crying out for their mothers or lovers as the Clerics frantically rushed about trying to administer aid.  Even though the battle was mostly over, there were still shouts from combatants, the holdouts battling feverishly against the triumphant Dawn soldiers. 

The scent of death, blood, and excrement hung heavy in the air and even the strong winds blowing in from the sea could not eradicate the nearly overpowering stench of despair.

Yet, even as he passed by all of this and ducked around scorched stone or broken weapons lodged inside soulless bodies there was a sense of hope on the breeze.  There was sorrow and anguish as well but hope flitted about the edges, soothing the ragged ends and comforting the broken.

Remus realized that he had never felt more at home- more accepted and necessary than he did in this moment.

He felt ashamed immediately after, but he could not bring himself to lie, even inside his own mind.  Azeroth was terrifying, he could admit, terrifying and strange and unpredictable.

But yet-

None of these men made Remus feel as if he had to be twice as good or better at everything to make up for being a werewolf.  And they all knew.  Remus had transformed by accident during the battle for Hearthglen- as it had occurred on a day when Azeroth’s lesser moon was full, they realized after the fact- and Tirion had made Remus’ condition part of the victory announcement.

Just a simple line about Remus’ occasional form change before the man had moved on to more important things.

Remus had gotten a few strange looks and more than one scholar who was quite interested in his tale, but no one skirted around him as if he was a wild animal or held their children back from him when he smiled.  When he spoke, people listened just as they would listen to any other person.  He could fight or heal or study- and no one balked when he said he wished to do all three.

It was puzzling, this new emotion that was swirling about in his belly, growing deeper and wider with each passing day.  Remus had felt it ever since that first full moon and it had begun as little more than a niggling little feeling at the back of his mind.  It grew stronger the more time passed without his Curse returning, flowering into something unique and puzzling if not breathtakingly beautiful as his relationships with his fellow occupants of Karazhan grew and they slowly came together as a family.

Just as they turned towards the entrance to the Graveyard Remus realized that he already loved Azeroth far more than he had ever loved Earth.

(Later, after much consideration he puzzled out the _why_ -

-because Azeroth- for all her difficulties and heartbreak and troubles- actually loved him in return.)

――ᴖᴗ――

Augusta took her time in admiring the elegant stone arches of Stormwind as Tirion exchanged words with gate guards.

Edwin’s Guild certainly did impressive work.

The plan was to announce their presence and to present the guards with Taelan’s sealed, written request for them to be allowed an audience with King Wrynn.  Tirion had informed them that there was a chance that he would not be allowed inside the city- as whoever was posted at the gates could very well decide to deny entry to the ‘disgraced’ Paladin.

They had already rented out rooms in the small Inn at Goldshire- the largest settlement near Stormwind as they fully expected the bureaucracy of the request to take some time.

It was yet early in the day so Augusta fully planned to do some light sightseeing- there were several shops she wished to visit thanks to her lovely House Elves and their attention to detail- before picking a table at the Goldshire Inn from which shamelessly eavesdrop while pretending to read a book.  Sirius was rather keen on checking up with the Stonefield woman who had been so kind to them during the Expedition.  Augusta was fairly certain that Tirion would find someone in need of assistance and happily while away the day being helpful.

The plan to expose the dragon was rather complex in its simplicity. 

Dobby had snuck into Stormwind and tested different herbal mixtures- all variants of various _Animagus_ revealing potions- until they discovered one that consistently reverted the Polymorphed students at the Mage Academy.  It ended up being more of a paste than a mixture at its most potent, but they had tried to find ways around that.

Augusta did feel a bit of guilt at the subterfuge as it affected the students and she hoped that they had not done anyone’s record any permanent harm.  Dobby had reported that he and his Rangers had made sure to test the mixed herbs when the Master Mages had cast the spells too, just to try to indicate that there might have been extenuating factors for those few weeks.

Augusta truly had a special spot for that wonderful little elf.  The Lady loved all the elves, of course, especially the ones that had long served her as Lady Longbottom, but Dobby was a truly unique elf and it was heartening to see him and his Rangers begin to branch on their own.  They still were very insistent about being part of the Order, but they were learning to be individuals and inspiring the other elves as well, which was exciting to witness.

Truly Augusta did not mind the slow transition from slave to vassal that the House Elves were undergoing.  On Earth they had truly needed a Bond to survive, but without the life-or-death nature of such a thing it was exciting to witness the tiny little beings begin to cautiously explore being individuals.  Augusta would be terribly saddened to see any of the elves leave, but thus far they seemed to still be entirely content in their own little niches, though Augusta figured that a large part of the elves’ happiness came from the unprecedented amount of freedom they held over their chosen professions.

Still, Augusta was quite fond of the little beings and was a little chagrined at how she had somewhat taken them for granted before her arrival on Azeroth.

Making the bed or sweeping the hall was certainly not a glamourous job and Augusta had always appreciated her elves’ hard work.  However before Azeroth she had never truly sat down and thought about how used to their work that she had become that she had forgotten- or never known- how easily it was to nitpick a finished product.  Now when she noticed a spot on the floor that was a little smudged or a window that wasn’t quite sparkling clean she stopped and checked her thoughts before she frowned in disapproval or chastised the elves. 

Everyone has off days, after all.

Now Augusta made it a point to compliment at least three elves a day on their accomplishments.  No matter how mundane those tasks might be in the grand scheme of things, they were necessary and time consuming.  Augusta had formed the habit so that she was assured that she remained humble and properly appreciative of her wonderful little helpers.

At any rate the herbal mixture they had decided upon actually smelled fairly pleasant and they had found that it took very little of the mixture to disrupt a spell that changed a person’s form.  It even worked on Remus for a few minutes at a time during his time as ‘Moony’!  They had  tested the mixture on Sirius when he transformed into his ‘Padfoot’ form but as well and the mixture had also worked whenever Augusta Transfigured him into an animal manually.

So they were cautiously optimistic; though they were rather worried about how strong a dragon’s magic might be versus their own.

To get the most impact from their solution the elves had washed all their clothes in the herbal mixture- thankfully it was fairly gentle on the skin- and they had been using soap that had been tainted by the mixture as well.  Even Augusta’s _hand lotion_ had been mixed with it!  To further propagate the effect aesthetically pleasing potpourri arrangement- essentially, a moderate amount of dried leaves, tree bits, and pretty stones arranged artfully in a rather lovely hand-painted ceramic bowl- they had brought as a gift had been thoroughly drenched in the tincture as well.

The mixture worked best when absorbed through the skin so Augusta planned on having a strategic clumsy moment if absolutely necessary, especially as she was uncertain if ladies of the Court found it fashionable to wear gloves in Stormwind.  A possible flaw that would prevent the solution from getting on the Lady Prestor’s skin.

Dobby and his Rangers were under strict orders to not take any unnecessary risks- which meant no direct spying on the King in his own Keep!  There were many disciplines to learn on and about on Azeroth and there was no guarantee that House Elf magic was an exception to them all.  The elves had been mostly lucky up until this point but no one wanted the Rangers to get in over their heads and possibly get hurt.

“Tirion, old friend!  Is that really you?”  A deep voice boomed from further up the way, the sound carrying clearly thanks to all the stone that made up the entrance.

“Bolvar!”  Tirion called back loudly, a wide grin overcoming his features as the figure began to jog towards them.  “By the Light, you haven’t aged a day!”

“The same cannot be said of you, old friend!  By the Light you’ve gotten grey!”  The brown haired man with the neatly trimmed beard and animated dark eyes shot back good-naturedly as he came closer and embraced the other Paladin like a long-lost brother.

The new arrival made a few discreet gestures and the gate guards relaxed, melting back into the stonework rather stealthily as the two men continued to exchange friendly banter.

A few minutes later, Augusta shared a highly amused glance with Sirius. 

The two fully grown Paladins were chattering like teenage girls and no one would _ever_ convince Augusta Longbottom otherwise.

Then, of course, the plan went bollocks up.

“You must be Tirion Fordring, the Silver Hand’s openly disgraced Paladin Knight.  One of the four founding Knights of the Order of the Silver Hand, actually; yet the only remaining one alive and well.” 

The dark-haired woman was beautiful, alluring in a way that most women only ever dream of being.  Even her _eyebrows_ were annoyingly enthralling.  The woman continued speaking, layering barely-concealed insinuations together seamlessly as she began to lightly tug the man- Lord Fordragon- backwards, away from the grim Tirion.  The woman was obviously angling to get them tossed out and never invited into the city, let alone allowed to see the King.

Augusta’s honed political wits noticed all of that peripherally while the bulk of her attention was focused solely on the strange pendant nestled near the alluring woman’s exposed collarbone.  The ruby and gold pendant felt positively _slimy_ to Augusta’s highly attuned senses while alarms blared loudly in the back of her mind, not unlike the wards of Longbottom Manor had the night she had been whisked away to Azeroth and away from certain death.  Those observations coupled with the slightly vacant look that had overcome Lord Fordragon- which had only grown more vacant the closer the woman came until the woman had lightly brushed his arm and his eyes went full on Imperious-hazy.

Sirius shifted lightly beside her and Augusta knew that he had sensed it as well. 

Augusta was unsure how the good people of Stormwind had not noticed such an insidious artifact and the indications that Lord Fordragon was being manipulated, but perhaps it had something to do with them being used to living in a magic-rich environment?  Even on Earth magic enriched areas were carefully cultivated- like Old Blood Estates or places like Hogwarts- were incredibly rare.  Perhaps the people of Stormwind were simply so accustomed to magic they had never learned how to be specifically sensitive to certain types?  Or maybe the wars and the leagues of undead and demons that had ravaged the planet not so long ago had caused them to become somewhat resistant to distinguishing magics out of self-defense?

Augusta put on her razor-sharp smile, the one she had always saved for the likes of Arcturus Black, Tiberius Nott, and Abraxas Malfoy. She discreetly squeezed a bit of fresh lotion onto her concealed hand, rubbing her fingers together slowly to hide the evidence of her actions as she decided to take control of the situation.

“I am Lady Augusta of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Longbottom.”  Augusta nearly purred, her eyes glinting in satisfaction as she noticed the woman was not wearing any gloves.

The woman’s smile became fixed and Augusta swore the lady’s dark eyes went reptilian for a moment before she reached out and lightly shook Augusta’s hand.  The woman’s smile faltered for a brief moment before she answered.  “Your hands are quite greasy, _Lady_ Longbottom.  Are you truly of noble birth or are you simply a farmgirl pretending to be a Lady?”  The woman announced in a voice that was clearly intended to draw attention and embarrass Augusta. “Why I-“

The woman coughed suddenly and Augusta’s smile grew fiercer.  The woman’s form seemed to flicker for a moment and something near to panic crossed her features before she took a deep breath and regained control of herself.

Augusta’s heart dropped a bit and she prepared to have to fight their way out, mentally cursing having left the gift at the Inn as they had not been expected to meet anyone of import- let alone their target- so early on in their trip.  Sirius was a steady presence at her shoulder even as Tirion was pushed back into Sirius and Augusta as the guards followed Lady Prestor’s subtle signal and began to push the visitors backwards, towards the gates.

It was just after the guards had begun to herd them back out of the thick stone archway of the gates that it happened. 

Augusta could barely see through the gaps between the guards but she witnessed the moment the woman lurched forward so unexpectedly that she dropped to her knees.  The dark haired woman she began to angrily screech something intelligible to Augusta, but the elder woman certainly saw Lord Fordragon’s expression of anger as he turned towards them and began to gesture towards the soldiers.

At that exact moment the woman’s form rippled violently and the furious roar of a dragon rang out clearly just as the slimy-feeling pendant shattered into tiny fragments.

Augusta had always been rather good at subtle wand work and she had been born a Bones before she had married a Longbottom.  Dark Artifacts were always her favorite puzzles, though her youthful adventures as an apprentice Cursebreaker alongside her Great-Aunt Seraphina and her favorite cousin-in-law, Callidora Black-Longbottom most likely had something to do with that.

Black, leathery-seeming wings nearly as wide as the stone walkway burst forth as the dragon’s wickedly spiked, clubbed tail crashed against the stonework of the left Gatehouse.  Sirius nearly bowled Augusta over as he dove forward; recklessly barreling past the stunned-to-stillness soldiers as he bodily tackled Lord Fordragon and threw them both into the small reservoir under the walkway.

Not a moment too soon, either, as fire hot enough to turn sand to glass erupted, bathing the area in intense heat.

Augusta’s best magical shield snapped into place; the one she had perfected during the days of the Rebirth Inferno.  The slightly purple magical dome did not block the dragon’s fire so much as it redirected it.  The woman was pleased to note that the Captain of the Guard seemed to have a working brain as he bellowed for the soldiers to group up behind the shield.

Not that a few unfortunate souls had not been fried to a crisp by then, but Augusta’s shield was only so large.

Tirion- the reckless man- surged forward during the first possible lull in the fiery onslaught, having borrowed a weapon from the guards as he had not come armed, so as to not appear threating.  Even mostly dressed down and using army regulation, economy swords the Paladin was an amazing sight to behold in combat.  Tirion distracted the massive dragon with well-placed strikes as he battled the dragon in a slow circuit and began to force her out of the gates, tail first. 

Augusta had moved out of the way and the soldiers rallied around Tirion, helping the Paladin in forcing the dragon out.  The Paladin had scored a fairly impressive wound to one of her wings and the black, syrupy-like blood was nauseating in its dark magnificence.

The large black dragon took a few strange almost-hops backwards into the Forest before it inhaled deeply- obviously with the intent to bathe the soldiers in more of its searing hot flames- when Sirius and Lord Fordragon-  Augusta was pleased to note that the young Lord’s eyes were clear and fully alert- popped up on the opposite side of the walkway.

Unfortunately, while they quickly scrambled out of the shallow edge of the waters, they were too far away to make a difference as the dragon began to exhale, cinders flickering about her serpentine mouth.

“ _Expecto Patronum_!”  Sirius howled desperately, pointing his wand at the dragon just as she began to exhale actual flames.

Augusta’s world went white for a moment before she blinked away the spots in her vision and noted the brilliant opaque white wolf that had leapt from Sirius’ wand and was engaging the dragon.  Larger than even Harry’s ‘Malorne’ _Patronus_ the wolf seemed to only grow stronger the more fire it absorbed, taking the battle to the air as the dragon leapt up and made for the sky, despite its damaged wing.

‘ _Someday_.’  Augusta thought somewhat grouchily as the dragon turned tail and fled.  The wolf made a victorious lap, seeming to crow in victory before it returned to stand on the walkway in front of Sirius; purposefully walking over the spilled befouled blood and leaving vibrant patches of flowers in its wake.  ‘ _I am going to pin down why the Patronus acts so differently in this world!  I know it was always a difficult charm for even adult magicals to attempt but it seems as if it connects to the spirits of these protectors for some reason.  Not knowing why concerns me_.  _Then again, the literal translation is “I await a protector”.  Perhaps that and the raw emotion have something to do with these strange occurrences?_ ’

During her mental ruminations Sirius had fished out the first aid kit and began handing out supplies to treat the injured.  The dragon’s tail had knocked some sections of stone loose, causing some injuries as well as trapping a few soldiers while there were several burns of varying intensity on those unlucky enough to have not been behind Augusta’s shield, but lucky enough to not have been fried to a crisp.

Just as Augusta had finished inspecting Tirion and Lord Fordragon’s wounds the King and more soldiers arrived.

‘ _This was not how this was supposed to go_.’  Augusta thought tartly as Tirion and Lord Fordragon-whom Augusta was still tending- quickly began to explain the situation.

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞―≡―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―◊―――

 “Goldrinn, my love?”

_A laugh; light and airy like the whisper of a spring breeze playfully tickling a lazily swaying wind chime._

“Ah.  I see.”  Amusement colored the deep voice as his lover’s breath threaded light and contentment through his very soul.  “Well, I suppose a mother’s eye will ever be for her child.”  The voice paused for a moment before adding wryly.  “And Goldrinn can be just as much of a brat as that one, if not as invaluable in a fight.  I suppose they deserve each other, really.”

_More laughter, this time warmer.  It threaded through the serene clearing like a fluttery breeze of autumn as it dances cheerily between the heavy heat of summer and the deep chill of winter._

“That is your plan, then.”  A chagrined smile, full of affection.  “I should have never doubted you.  I am certain that Omen’s spirit will find peace once your Blessing is transferred and his immortal soul can pass into the Dream.  Without your Blessing the fel taint that torments him even under the sacred waters of Elune’ara will unravel and when he is once again defeated you will be able to cleanse his spirit properly.”

_No sound came from his lover but a vicious wind, cold and sharp as the jagged peaks of Winterspring swept through the area, leaving peace in its wake even as it tore through the trees and carved its will into the unforgiving stone._

“I know you have long mourned the fate of Omen, my love, but without a proper heir the Blessing could not be moved.”  Love, gentle and kind even as it ached with sadness exuded from him as he tried to soothe his lover’s heart.  “But Omen will be proud of his heir, I am sure of it.  You will see, once he arrives in the Dream as himself.”

_A forlorn sigh.  The heavy, weighted breeze of summer ambled through the small clearing.  Too warm to be truly comfortable but pleasant all the same as it lazily tugged at leaves and eased along the rugged bark of the trees._

“I have faith in your plans, my love.  I can see them now and I wholeheartedly approve.”  He told his lover warmly as he reached out and traced the brilliant shafts of moonlight with surprising tenderness.  “It will all be for the best, you will see.

_For once, the winds brought him no reply, but the man understood his lover all the same._

 ―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞―≡―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―◊―――


	6. Plotting Redemption

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞―≡―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―◊―――

 “This research is really quite fascinating.”  Hermione exclaimed cheerfully as she skipped inside Harry’s sitting room.

“Oh?”  Harry queried interestedly.  He was sitting with his back against his comfortable, cushy couch with papers, notebooks, and random tomes scattered about on the low table in front of him. 

Hermione settled herself into a heavily padded wing-backed chair with a side table.  Neville- who had been following behind the young woman, carrying his own armload of haphazardly stacked books and such- settled his load down on the already overloaded coffee table and took a seat in the complimentary mate to Hermione’s seat.

Harry sitting room was very much reminiscent of the Gryffindor Common Room, complete with a merrily crackling fireplace and an overabundance of red.  There were far more crèmes and the reds were in varying shades as opposed the nearly eye-searing solid wall of brilliant crimson of the original inspiration.  The varied hues offset the silver wall sconces rather well, as Harry was not overly fond of gold.

“Since Harry and I gave up at hour five today- and we flaked out early yesterday- why don’t you educate us?”  Neville sighed tired as he tried to stretch out the kinks in his muscles.

“Naturally.”  Hermione sniffed faux-primly as she rearranged herself and pulled out her spiral notebook full of color tabs and highlighted sections.

Harry lazily flicked a paperclip at her, causing her to splutter and toss it back at him with a grin.

“Prat.”  Hermione growled.

“Nerd.”  Harry replied in a rather sing-songed manner.

“Touché.”  Hermione rebutted without heat as she flipped her notebook open and ran her finger down a page as her demeanor turned a bit more serious.  “The name of the ward has been lost to time but the scheme has survived in bits and pieces.  From what I’ve gathered it is sort of a mix of several types of wards but the main component is that of a time compression ward.  Time compression is rather literal.  The ward encases a certain area in much the same way as the _Fidelius_ does- in that the space encased is out of phase with ‘ordinary’ space.”

“But we still are affected by weather and such?”  Neville challenged as he tried to wrap his head around that bit of information.  “So we can’t be all that far removed?”

“Yes, we are.”  Hermione admitted freely as she fluttered her hands around slightly and grasped for words.  “However, to anyone who is not privy to the Secret the area that the _Fidelius_ covers _does not exist_.  Thankfully space is quite resilient and naturally bends to accommodate the hidden places- otherwise it would destabilize and there would be anarchy- which allows us to be party to normal weather patterns without giving away the fact that there is a space that is hidden.  So while the area that the _Fidelius_ covers does not exist to those unaware of the Secret it is not truly in a separate or pocket dimension.  Hence the reason why someone can pass through the _Fidelius_ shielded area without discovering anything amiss.”

“So an example of a truly alternate dimension- or wizard space- would be like……a wizarding tent?”  Harry asked pensively. 

“Yes!  _Precisely_!”  Hermione replied with a grateful sigh.  “It’s why someone could cross the mountains from the Zul’Gurub side and end up at the Pass without ever encountering Karazhan.”

“Ok, so we’re still a part of Azeroth’s space.  How does this tie into the Time Compression ward?”  Neville asked their resident Brainiac.

“Well.”  Hermione began, fussing with her colored tabs for a few moments before she was satisfied.  “Instead of bending space a Time Compression Ward forces time to bend.  In doing so it forces time within to move far more rapidly than normal.  It requires a fair amount of power so it cannot go on indefinitely.  To overreach the power supply would- well, there’s good reason the wards were outlawed before even the Statute went into effect.”

“I would think not or we would have been screwed by Voldy.”  Harry protested uneasily.

Hermione grimaced as well as she turned a few more pages before continuing.  “Compression has its roots in ten. Usually there are several options- two, three, and seven are usually the preferred ward bases- but time compression is only viable with a base of ten.  No exceptions.”

“I take it there were several impressive failures to discover such an absolute law?”  Neville asked, leaning his head against his closed fist and keeping a cautious eye on Hermione’s body language.

Neville loved his sister in all but blood but sometimes she was a bit overzealous whenever she discovered something new.  The last thing he wanted was for her to get hurt.

“Unfortunately.”  Hermione frowned sadly as she read over her notes.  “Magic was not classed as Light or Dark back then but disputes were quite prevalent.  It came to a head during the days Catharism versus the Catholic Church.  Magicals on both sides of the conflict sought to create powerful soldiers for their cause.”

“Oh no.”  Harry whispered.

“They imploded a main leyline.”  Hermione continued grimly.  “Unknowingly both sides tapped into sizable subsidiaries of the same leyline.   The death toll was in the hundreds of thousands.  Actually the European magical populations never recovered from the tragedy, as there were magicals from as far away as Finland that had been involved in the conflict.  The backlash was so powerful it irreparably damaged the ancient natural barriers to the Americas and nearly all of the ancient sites- places where magic was especially prevalent- withered away to nearly nothing over the course of the next hundred years or so.  It’s why nonmagicals can see places such as Stonehenge.  The ancient barriers collapsed and the area became so unstable that new wards could not be implemented- the chaotic remains of the ancient protections eroded them far too quickly for them to be positively sustained.”

Harry whistled appreciatively.  “That’s a wickedly strong backlash.  To cross the entire Atlantic and _still_ do that much damage?”

“The first ever multi-national Council was called afterwards.  It was held in Rome.”  Hermione continued, steadier now that the mental imagery of thousands of people being torn apart by uncontrolled magic had faded.  “Time Compression Wards were deemed too dangerous and were banned for the greater good of all.  The information was sought after relentlessly and destroyed with great prejudice.”

“So how do we have a great deal of it?”  Neville asked somewhat wryly.

“The information was shuffled around quietly between branches the original family until it came into the possession of the Longbottom family.”  Hermione explained wrinkling her nose a bit as she continued.  “I’m not sure how but eventually the Longbottom family won a conflict with the original holders of the information and the Head of the family who translated it and then buried the tome.  Several generations later it was considered as a last resort and tested in small areas- leading to the confirmation of the ten rule- but never implemented.  The research led to the Draught of the Living Death being created by a Longbottom Potioneer sometime later.”

“So _that’s_ where all the family Potions talent went.”  Neville quipped with a grin.

“Indeed.”  Harry added in his best Gran impersonation.  “But why is the ‘ten to the tenth’ measured in seconds?”

“You two.”  Hermione laughed as she resituated herself and prepared to move forward with the explanations.  “At any rate the Time Compression Ward could possibly be used in this situation because, unlike Earth, Azeroth is abundant in natural magic.  The entirety of the planet is saturated in it.  The wardbase is measured in seconds because- well, let’s just call it a truly neutral measurement of time and leave it at that.”

“So we could possibly power the wards to their fullest capacity by using ambient energy as well as the usual ward bases- such as pre-powered Runestones and such- instead of needing to provide all of the power…err, synthetically?”  Harry asked contemplatively.

“Exactly!”  Hermione enthused, her eyes bright with excitement as she flipped a few pages and then turned her notebook around to show the boys her diagram.  “It needs lots of work and double-checking, obviously, but I think that with Azeroth’s natural resources we could possibly engineer the ward to the maximum- ten to the tenth power.”  Hermione pointed to a figure down at the bottom of the page.  “Ten to the tenth power works out to be about three hundred and seventeen years, well just over that.  The base number has to be divided by sixty twice to make the conversion to minutes and then hours; then by twenty-four to make it days; lastly it has to be divided by three-hundred-and-sixty-five to convert it into years.”

“That’s quite a bit of time for the dragons and any eggs to be cycling through their negative energy.”  Harry commented shrewdly.  “We would have to ensure the arrays were stable, so that once all the negative energy has been bled out- hopefully!- then the arrays won’t begin to do the opposite.”

“I agree.  Several fail-safes should be put into place.”  Hermione agreed ardently.  “We don’t want our meddling to make things worse.”

“Dear Merlin, _no_.”  Neville moaned as he shook his head vigorously.  “Fail-safes or no wards at all.”

“It is law.”  Harry intoned seriously, and though his eyes were a bit playful his tone was firm.  “We definitely don’t want to cut off our nose to spite our face.”

“So, you said _compression_ , right?”  Neville picked up after a few moments of semi-solemn silence.  “How long would it take in normal time?”

“Right.  So the math is pretty complicated but I think I’ve got it right.”  Hermione said as she turned to a new page and returned her notebook to her lap.  “By my calculations every ten seconds of real time is worth twenty minutes inside the wards.  This means that every minute equals two hours of compressed time, making twelve real time minutes a full day on the inside.”

“But three hundred and some odd _years_?”  Neville mused with a rather lost look.  “That’s a really, really long time!”

“Well, compressed time will be going through five full days for every hour of normal time.”  Harry pointed out, having done some quick calculations on a sheet of scrap paper.  “That’s like, four months per single day for us.  A year every three days for us.  Talk about _compressed time_.”

“It works out to being just a bit more than two and a half years in real time.”  Hermione explained on the heels of Harry’s statement, giving him a nod and a bright smile as she did so.  “I think that it would be best to fashion the wards somewhere far away from Karazhan as we will have no idea how attuned these dragons will be to Azeroth’s earth.”  Hermione sighed wistfully and she smiled softly as she gazed down at her notebook.  “The Black Dragonflight used to be the earth wardens, the keepers of the deep places of Azeroth.  They did _so much good_.”  She smiled wetly at her brothers as she hesitantly raised her head to look them in the eyes.  “What they’ve become _hurts_ me because I know who they _were_.  I-I _really_ want to help them.”

“That’s our Mia.”  Harry said with a warm smile.  “All heart.”

“Well, I suppose we’d best get to cracking on those arrays then.”  Neville stretched his neck and rolled his shoulders a few times before determinedly grabbing the nearest tome and his note taking supplies.  “Can’t let Mia do _alllll_ the book work.”

“Yeah, if she manages to save the Black dragons all by herself and we’d never hear the end of it.”  Harry agreed with a grin, laughing even louder when Hermione tossed her pen at him, her face a fetching shade of Gryffindor red.

“Bloody prats.  The _both_ of you.”

――ᴖᴗ――

“Are you certain that there is nothing that would make you reconsider my offer?”  King Varian Wrynn of Stormwind insisted persistently, though courteously.  “Nothing at all that would tempt you to consider making Stormwind your home?”

Five days had passed since the revealing of Lady Katrana Prestor’s true identity and the King was attempting to tempt the companions of Tirion Fordring to take up residence in Stormwind.  The Silver Hand Paladin was currently waiting outside the room- most likely speaking with Bolvar Fordragon- while Varian spoke privately with the duo of foreign mages inside one of the small, private audience rooms just off the Throne Room in Stormwind Keep.

Varian was quite keen on having them stay.  He felt especially baffled at their insistence of returning to their homes as Stormwind was essentially the final human kingdom, save for Jaina Proudmoore’s rather newly-established Theramore.  Given their magical prowess Varian would better understand their reticence if they had been among Jaina’s people but had already confirmed that they were not of Theramore’s numbers.  Tirion claimed them as friends and allies but from what Varian understood they were not actually under the formidable Paladin’s banner, meaning they were free agents, for lack of a better term.

So the _why_ of them politely declining Stormwind’s generous- if somewhat cautious- offer was particularly perplexing.

Varian hoped that he had made it clear that his caution was not meant as an insult to these brave heroes.  Not only had they been instrumental in uncovering the treachery of his former Advisor, Lady Augusta Longbottom had assisted in his healing.  Actually the formidable Lady had been the one to notice the magic that had been affecting him and she had assisted the Royal Healers in treating both him and Lord Fordragon.  The Royal Healers had learned much from the formidable Lady and were quite interested in learning much more from her.  Even the Clerics of the Cathedral of Light were particularly interested in her peculiar healing techniques and they were usually quite condescending and borderline resentful of Church outsiders usurping ‘their’ areas of expertise.

Varian was very resolutely not thinking about the denizens of the Mage Quarter and their reactions to the two magi.

On a personal note, Lady Augusta had also been quite kind to Anduin; checking the small child’s condition quietly and without having been asked and then keeping the child busy with small tasks so that he would not interrupt the work of the Healers.  Being able to have his son nearby while recovering from magic that could have split him in two had meant the world to Varian- especially after such a scare!  A Black Dragon inside Stormwind’s walls!  Even more impressively whenever Lady Augusta had been called away to attend to other matters Lord Sirius Black had slipped in and entertained Anduin in her stead.

Kind men who could treat young, inquisitive children with patience and compassion, yet held the courage to face down a dragon were the sort of men- leaders- that Stormwind needed.  Varian was fairly certain that Stormwind’s Night Elf allies would also be highly interested in the wolf that Lord Black had summoned as well.   Had he mentioned Lady Augusta’s amazing prowess with diagnostics and healing recently?  She had even taught the Keep Apothecaries new recipes!  And they were the greatest Alchemists in the land!

Still, Varian was the King and his first duty was to his people.  So while he was incredibly grateful and appreciative of these magi- and Highlord Fordring’s- aid in unmasking such a sickening, detrimental conspiracy inside the highest level of Stormwind’s Court, Varian was also feeling especially cautious and very nearly paranoid.

Lady Augusta smiled kindly at the young King.  “While we are greatly pleased that we were able to aid Stormwind and her King, my family and I are but a small Order and we cherish our independence.”

“Please do not take our refusal of your generous offer as an insult to you or the souls under your authority, King Wrynn.”  Sirius smoothly added his bright gaze pleasant, but immovable.  “We are quite fond of a number of Stormwind’s people, who were quite kind and generous in our time of need.  We are also exceptionally pleased that you and Lord Fordragon are now free of the dark magic that was affecting you and that we were able to assist in the healing process.”

“The Healers have informed me that had I been under the Black Dragon’s insidious magic much longer my being would have been split in two.  What’s more is that they might not have detected it until it had already done irreparable damage to my mind had you not pointed it out to them, Lady Augusta.”  Varian informed them persuasively while he furiously considered what more he could offer them that might change their minds.  “And my son is quite attached to you, Lady Augusta.  My Anduin does not listen to his tutors half as well as he does to you!  We would very much like for you to remain here, with us.”

“I have grown quite fond of young Anduin, he’s quite a bright child.”  Lady Augusta freely admitted, a surprisingly fond smile causing happy little crinkles to form at the corners of her eyes.  “Your Healers and their techniques are also quite fascinating, there is much we could learn from each other, I believe.”

“We mean no disrespect, Your Majesty, but we are quite satisfied with our privacy.”  Sirius smoothly contributed; kindly, but firmly.  “That does not mean that we would not be interested in some collaborations- such as Lady Augusta making trips to spend time with your Healers and young Anduin- but as for becoming a part of Stormwind formally, we shall have to decline.”

“I see.”  Varian sighed heavily.  “What would you ask for in exchange for availing us the Lady Longbottom’s expertise?”

“Well.”  Sirius said cheerfully, with a grin that reminded Varian uncomfortably of Anduin Lothar right before a ‘new and interesting’ training session.  “My niece- well, she is my Godson’s sister in all but blood and so I have adopted her into our family- is quite the talented young Mage.  She is quite good at our people’s magic but some training with your Mages would not be unappreciated.”

“That is all?”  The King asked with an unsatisfied frown. 

“A month ago we might have asked for some weapon’s training.  We had some weapon’s skills but they definitely needed some polishing as where we hailed from was quite reliant on magic over physical combat abilities.”  The Lord Black admitted easily with a rather sheepish grin.  “But as we are set to begin training with the Order of the Silver Hand initiates inside the newly reclaimed Hearthglen, we’re going to be quite busy.”

“Where do you hail from, Lord Black?”  Varian questioned interestedly.  “I have never heard of someone speak of magic so easily, not since Khadgar.  Your spells are quite foreign to me as well.”

“We would ask that you keep this bit of knowledge to yourself, King Wrynn.”  Sirius- no, Lord Black- stated seriously, and suddenly Varian could see the warrior buried beneath the agreeable jokester.  “We will not do you the discourtesy of lying, but we would rather the true nature of our origins stay a secret.”

“Oh?”  Varian asked, a suspicious look stealing across his face as he shifted in his high-backed chair.

“We hail from a land called Britain.”  Lady Augusta explained steadily, the light that filtered into the room from the stained glass windows bathing her in a soft, gentle light.  “There was a terrible war between the Dark and the Light.  We all fought for the Light.  In one of the battles one of the Dark mages attempted to open a portal and it ended badly.  As a result we arrived on Azeroth some time ago with no way home and so we have settled here.”

“There might come a time when we experiment with attempting to make contact with our former comrades, but only after we have been assured that such a course of action would not endanger our new home.”  Sirius supplied calmly, watching the King’s reactions intently.  “Azeroth is now our home as well.”

“I see.”  The King murmured softly as he stared at them intently for a few moments and absently drummed his fingers on the wooden desk while he pondered the new information.  “While I greatly appreciate your honesty in this matter, Azeroth has a weary history of invaders- most of whom proved to be quite hostile and devastating to us and our ways of life.  So you’ll forgive my suspicion of you, despite your heroic services to myself and my people.”

“I would expect nothing less of a good King.”  Lady Augusta replied with an approving smile and for some reason Varian actually felt as if the venerable Lady genuinely meant her compliment, despite Varian’s less than stellar performance as of late.  “However we are quite happy with our new home and we are quite keen on defending her with all of the strength we possess.  I hope that in time we can become trusted friends of Stormwind.”

“You have certainly generated a great deal of goodwill already.”  Varian affirmed with a relieved smile at the Lady for her poise and understanding.  He offered Sirius Black a short nod, to showcase his appreciation of both their candor and their patient consideration of his reservations.  “I, too, look forward to forging a stalwart friendship, if not a binding alliance.  How shall I contact you so that we might arrange exchanges?”

“We have- well I suppose they would be called vassals.”  Lord Sirius said after exchanging a glance with his companion.  “On our original world they needed to be Bonded to a magical person or family or else their own magic would progressively grow more unstable until they self-destructed.”

“A Bond was a mutually beneficial arrangement.”  Lady Augusta hurriedly continued to explain.  “The magic of the person or family would keep the House Elves healthy and in return the House Elves would act as servants.  House Elves- we might need to speak with them about changing that designation, seeing as Azeroth has several types of Elves already and they really look more akin to Goblins- at any rate, House Elves thrive when they are being useful.  So, typically, a Bonded House Elf would cook, clean, garden, do the laundry, run errands- well, you get the picture.” 

“As with all things the Bond could be used improperly.”  Sirius informed him with a grimace.  “And many of our House Elves were rescued from people or families who mistreated them.”

“Since arriving on Azeroth their magic has stabilized and many no longer need a Bond in order to properly use their magic.”  Lady Augusta supplied with a sincerely pleased smile.  “They were horrified at the idea of being released from our service- and apparently having stable magic did not rid them of their deep desire to be useful- so now they are our esteemed vassals.  Truly they are quite the blessing.”

“They actually make the journey to Stormwind every few months to stock up on supplies.”  Sirius picked up once again, a cheerful smile on his face as he bounced his knee a bit and shifted restlessly  “If I left you with their names- Kreacher and Winky always chaperone the trips, you see- perhaps they could register at the Gates during their next trip?  I believe we are about due for another supply run.”

“Oh?”  Varian said attentively as he pushed a piece of parchment, ink, and a quill towards Sirius, who promptly scooted closer and began scribbling down information.  “Well, if they have any sort of perchance for mischief like the Goblins of the Steamwheedle Cartel you might as well refer to them as Chaos Imps.”

Sirius let out a short, bark-like laugh as he placed the quill down and scooted back into his seat.  “I’ve seen picture of the imps that Warlocks can supposedly summon and read about how sassy they tend to be to their summoners.  It would certainly be fitting for several of our _vassals_.”

“If I may, before we rejoin the others, would you elaborate on your- ah, stations in your old world?”  Varian requested of the Mages.

“Not that it matters much anymore to anyone but us.”  Sirius replied in a generally unflappable manner.  “But Lady Augusta and I both hail from lines that I suppose would be not all that dissimilar from the House of Nobles-“

“Not to be rude, Sirius, but I believe that our previous stations were more closely related to the Nobles of Arathor.”  Lady Augusta corrected gently, to which Sirius merely bowed somewhat exaggeratedly and allowed the elder woman to continue the explanations.  “Though we never had the threat of the Burning Legion on our shores our home planet was much different- magic was much different.” 

“We did have more than our fair share of Dark Lords with illusions of grandeur.”  Sirius muttered lowly, causing Lady Augusta to fix him with the look of stern mothers everywhere as she continued without acknowledging the interruption.

“Much like Arathor our ancestors once banded together against a great threat with the help of like-minded neighbors and won.  Eventually the empire crumbled and the Most Ancient and Most Noble Houses were left to govern matters essentially by themselves in what I believe you would call city-states.”  Lady Augusta’s eyes, which had drifted towards the stained glass windows behind the King during her monologue, returned to meet the King’s steady gaze squarely.  “The Houses declined as the birthrate of magically capable children tapered off- you are with born with magic or without it on that world- forcing the Houses to band together to form regional governments as the magical population continued to decline and the nonmagical one multiplied.  Eventually the magical peoples went into hiding and erased their existence from history.”

“Powerful magic.”  The King murmured quietly, earning a tight nod from Lady Augusta, who once again did not pause for the interruption. 

“Due to this history it is my belief that the lesser Houses of only one title were more akin to your House of Nobles.  _Our_ Houses, on the other hand, place somewhere between the House of Nobles and the Royal House.  Annwn-Thule never had a King, only a Governing Council with a democratically elected leader.”

“I see.”  Varian nodded in acceptance.  “I would venture a guess in that your Houses were also decimated by war?  Much like Arathor’s peoples?”

“Yes.”  Sirius replied grimly, scrubbing a hand through his hair as his gaze grew haunted.  “My godson is also the Heir of a twin-titled House, but Hermione- his sister in all but blood- was one of the magicals that occasionally turned up in a nonmagical family.  To protect our secrecy all magical children are identified and school from ages eleven to at least sixteen.  However many of the Purebloods resented these magicals and much of the Dark Lord- whose minions’ actions landed us on Azeroth- platform was the annihilation of anyone with ‘impure’ blood.”

“Fool.”  Varian scoffed derisively as he leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and scowled.  “Without fresh blood the magical populations would go entirely extinct.  No line can uninterruptedly marry family forever without grave consequence.”

“See?  That’s what makes you so bloody brilliant, Your Majesty!”  Sirius pronounced brightly before he turned to Lady Augusta and said- in an overly cheery voice.  “See Gran?  He’s not ever stepped foot on good ‘ol Britain’s jolly shores and even _he_ knows that much!”

“Indeed.”  Lady Augusta drawled so dryly that it elicited a startled laugh from Varian himself.

“I have taken up a fair bit of your time, but I thank you for answering my questions.”  Varia said as he stood and gave Sirius a small, crooked grin as he extended his arm towards the Lord Black.  “Now I have a _much_ better idea of how to title you when you next perform a great service to me and mine.”

Sirius Black let out a delighted bark of laughter and reached forward to clasp forearms with the King.  “You can count on it, Your Majesty!”

――ᴖᴗ――

“Question.”  Sirius said contemplatively as he leaned back and gazed at the various maps arrayed on the walls of the War Room.

The residents of Karazhan had gathered in the War Room to exchange information. 

Sirius and Augusta had explained the events that had occurred in Stormwind, Remus had relayed the events of the taking back of the Lordaeron’s Monastery and the teens- well, Hermione mostly, with the occasional input from the boys- had laid out the facts that had been uncovered in regards to the Time Compression wards.

“Yes, Padfoot?”    Remus prodded gently once it appeared that Sirius was waiting to be acknowledged.

Sirius shook his head sharply and refocused his gaze onto Remus.  “Well, we know of at least three continents on Azeroth- Kalimdor, the Eastern Kingdoms, and Northrend, right?”  Sirius fluttered a hand as he straightened back up in his chair and continued without waiting for an acknowledgement of his information.  “From our dream we know that all worlds are round- spherical, whatever- the point is the Forbidding Sea to the east of the Eastern Kingdoms and the Veiled Sea to the west of Kalimdor- they should be like the Pacific Ocean back on Earth, right?”  Sirius huffed lightly even as he went back to studying the maps on the walls.  “So why are there no trade routes that run across that span of water?”

“That is something I wondered as well, Sirius.”  Hermione said slowly as she, too, looked towards the walls and the maps pinned there.  “I’ve noticed that most all of the ports cross the Great Sea- which is the sea that lies between Kalimdor and the Eastern Kingdoms- which seems _odd_ because of the Maelstrom.”  Hermione’s brow furrowed further as she began idly tracing doodles in the margins of her notes.  “Why would people favor the sea that contains the Maelstrom and its chaotic whirlpool of potential death over the other sea?”

“The Maelstrom was formed when the Well of Eternity went kablooey and the original Titan-forged continent named Kalimdor shattered, right?”  Harry asked, more for clarification and verification of facts than anything else.

“Correct.”  Augusta affirmed quickly.

“Well, we know that that one Black Empire guy was entombed under the water somewhere.”  Neville offered somewhat hesitantly.  “And given the size of Kalimdor the Original, I don’t think that all the landmass is accounted for.”  Neville leaned back and frowned at the maps on the walls.  “I mean, we’ve really- well, the Rangers- have only explored parts of the Eastern Kingdoms, but even the maps we’ve gotten from Stormwind or the Argent Dawn-slash- Silver Hand don’t really align with the massive continent that we saw the Titans shape.”

“They also created the Sea Giants to help raise the land from the depths of the seas.”  Hermione pointed out reasonably.  “So even if large sections of land were submerged after the Sundering- which is what the ‘Well of Eternity going kablooey’ is referred to as- the Sea Giants would have- at least presumably, as they are a sort of Watcher- worked to raise the lost sections back up where they belong.”

“I guess I’ll just have to ask Tirion when we go to touch base with him tomorrow.”  Sirius sighed as he rose from his chair and began to stretch.  “If none of you know the why of it then we must not have much information on it- or the information is buried inside books we haven’t needed to crack open just yet- but Tirion or Ed will surely have some insight on the matter.”  Sirius grinned down at the rest of his family somewhat sheepishly.  “It’s just something that popped into my head and I wanted clarification on.”

“No, it is a good question.”  Augusta said firmly as she, too, rose and began to meander towards the door.  “Now that I think about it, I wonder why I had not questioned such an obvious fallacy before now.  I even overheard Tirion speaking with Bolvar Fordragon about Tirion’s plans to build ports for the Silver Hand while we were in Stormwind, and yet I did not question why the port in Tyr’s Hand will be used to ferry supplies to Northrend and not to the opposite edge of Kalimdor.”

They let the conversation topic peter out as they all packed up and headed towards their rooms in order to freshen up for dinner.

――ᴖᴗ――

The room they typically used for meals was actually within the Library. 

Two walkways away from the Celestial Watch the rounded room had originally been filled with bookshelves, the same as any other terrace of the massive Library.

However, even though they could all _Apparate_ \- or Teleport, in Hermione and Augusta’s cases- none of them were comfortable eating in the massive Dining Hall. 

_“It just makes me feel ridiculous to eat in here.”  Harry muttered as he looked out over the Dining Hall with a slight grimace during one of their ‘Occlumency through decorating’ sessions._

_“Especially with the balcony above us.”  Neville agreed rather sheepishly.  “Having the huge, empty Ballroom to the side is just….overkill.  No matter how homely Gran makes it.”_

_“So where would you want to take meals at?”  Augusta asked from behind the two teens, causing them to turn towards her with twin, guilty expressions._

_“Well.”  Harry said slowly as he wrinkled his nose and really thought about the question.  “There’s that one little platform-room not too far off the Watch that could be really cozy.”_

_“You want to take meals in the library?”  Hermione asked as she came into range, having been gestured over by Augusta.  “Not that I’m complaining.”  She hurried to assure them.  “I’m just a bit baffled.”_

_“Well, the Library could lose one of those little platform rooms without running the risk of becoming overcrowded.”  Neville pointed out reasonably, having cottoned on to what Harry was angling at.  “And we’re not talking about the very first little terrace room off the Watch, but the second one.”_

_“Yeah, if we knock out the shelves and just put in archways it would have a great view of the Library.”  Harry tacked on hurriedly.  “And the Library is actually really nice to look at- lots of reds, purples, whites and so on- and we could either put in a couple of windows on the side that runs along the outside or just charm some pictures to brighten the place up a bit.”_

_Augusta pondered the proposal for a long moment.  “Well.”  She said rather reluctantly after a few moments of thought.  “It’s rather unconventional, but the Library is both quite massive and aesthetically pleasing.”  The woman’s lips twisted into a thoughtful expression.  “It would be rather intimate for us as a family and we do spend quite a bit of time in that part of the tower as it is.  I would say we could take meals in the Celestial Watch itself, but some of that equipment is rather delicate.”_

_The teens waited a little while longer while Augusta continued to weigh the options, but in the end it was decided that the family would take meals on what became affectionately known as the ‘Dais of Serenity….and Food’_.

“So.”  Hermione began after swallowing a lovely mouthful of dinner.  It must have been a local recipe because while Hermione could most likely name the ingredients she did not know the name of the dish.

Not knowing the name in no way prevented her from having a second helping of the positively brilliant food, though.

“So?”  Sirius replied rather leadingly, with a playful tilt to the word.

Hermione rolled her eyes and pointed her fork at him cheekily.  “So.  Now that the Silver Hand has taken back Hearthglen and the Monastery, what’s next on the agenda?  And how are they managing all this while still keeping the Scourge at bay?”

“They are stretched pretty thin at the moment and High-Champion George said that they lost a fair bit of ground near Stratholme due to having to make a strategic withdrawal in order to make the assault on the Monastery.”  Remus put in for Sirius, given that he had the most accurate picture of things at the moment.  “Tirion and High-Champion George are quite committed to decimating the Crusade, though.”

“Mostly due to the fact that they cannot fight a war on two fronts for very long.”  Sirius added, having spent some time speaking with Tirion about the matter while they had been in Stormwind.  “The Silver Hand was fortunate in that many of the Crusaders in Hearthglen chose to renounce the Crusade and be absorbed into the Silver Hand- as they had held no idea that the Crusade’s leadership had become so corrupt.”

“’The enemy of my enemy is my friend’, though.”  Remus picked up seamlessly with a grimace.  “And Tirion and High-Champion George want to ensure that they leave the Scarlet Crusade no major foothold, because the fact of the matter is, we have no idea what the Crusade’s true aims were, nor what their endgame was.”

“So, what?”  Harry mused speculatively as he took a long sip of freshly squeezed apple juice and thought about the information.  “Tirion and the Dawn think that the Crusade remnants might take up with the Scourge or something?”

“Basically….yes.”  Remus admitted under the puzzled, incredulous stares of the teens.  “There’s really no telling what desperate extremists with unclear motives and shadowy goals might do if they are left to their own devices.”

Sirius snorted in amused contempt.  “They’re like the Death Eaters.  Only worse.”

“And we know just how far desperate Death Easters will go.”  Neville said grimly, sharing a concerned look with his Gran.

Everyone else nodded in grim agreement.

“So, to answer your question, Mia.  The Scourge is gaining a bit of ground while the Dawn and the Silver Hand are focused on retaking the Monastery- which has happened for the most part, it is just a matter of cleaning things up and securing the place now- and Tyr’s Hand- which is due to be assaulted in the next few days.”  Remus explained patiently to the young woman.  “The good news is that the Druids of the Cenarion Circle are interested in allying with the Silver Hand and the Dawn.  So once Tyr’s Hand is under Tirion’s control- because no matter how stubborn he is, the Dawn’s leadership are quite determined to merge with the Silver Hand, putting both factions under Tirion’s leadership- the Cenarion Circle will move in and use Tyr’s Hand as a major base of operations within the Plaguelands.”

“Tirion said that the Cenarion Circle folks are quite skilled fighters, for all that their major interests lie in trying to heal and rejuvenate the land and its animals.”  Sirius said with a small grin to lighten the mood a bit.  “They have a few small operations scattered across the Plaguelands, but Tyr’s Hand has a port and actual buildings.  Being as the center of operations for the Circle is all the way in Moonglade- which is near the tree-island of Teldrassil, in the northernmost part of Kalimdor- having a major base of operations here in the Eastern Kingdoms is quite the boon to them.”

“I would imagine.”  Neville mused somewhat admiringly. 

“Yeah, right now the Circle operations- and I’m quoting Ed here- survive ‘on a wing and a prayer’.”  Sirius said with a slightly wider grin with mischief hiding behind his eyes.  “Ed says that they- the Circle- can’t make much progress because they are always having to abandon their work and move camp whenever the Scourge or bandits or any other number of things shows up.”

“Champion Dawnbringer told me about the Syndicate and Ravenholdt that operates out of the Arathi Highlands area.  Well, sort of- their operations are near enough to the Plaguelands to warrant mention, at any rate.”  Remus said with a grin.  “Ravenholdt is a guild that prides itself on the unsurpassed prowess of its members.  They are the best of the best and take great pride in their work.”

“Ed told me that he considered joining them in his youth.”  Sirius said with a bright grin.  “But he ultimately decided not to.”

“When did you get so chummy with Edwin VanCleef anyway?”  Hermione asked somewhat suspiciously.

“They are remarkably alike.”  Augusta informed the younger woman dryly.  “I somewhat regret partnering them together during the three weeks it took to get Hearthglen back into decent shape.  They got on far better than I anticipated.”

Sirius grinned sunnily at the elder woman.

Suddenly Hermione didn’t want to know _any_ details.

One of Sirius Black was more than enough, thank you very much.

“Yes, well.  Ravenholdt is a shadowy, secretive organization but ultimately they have a sense of honor and integrity.”  Remus continued after giving a painfully affected, polite cough.  “The Syndicate is a primarily human criminal organization with a rather less than illustrious past.”

“Oh boy.”  Harry muttered under his breath to Neville.

“Stromgarde, in the Arathi Highlands, is where the story of the Syndicate starts.”  Sirius said, having had most of the history streamlined for him by Edwin.  “Basically the Kingdom of Stromgarde is the last surviving remnant of the once great Empire of Arathor- which, at one time, ruled over all the humans.  They were part of the Alliance during the Second War, but left because they got all mad that King Terenas of Lordaeron- the High King of the original Alliance- didn’t execute all of the Orcs afterwards.  Then came the Third War and some messed up betrayal happened; there were a few of the nobles who had some _serious_ delusions of grandeur.  Nowadays Stormgrade Keep- which is _massive-_ is home to three factions: the remaining loyalists to Stromgarde and her rightful Ruling House; some Ogres who moved in at some point; and the Syndicate, a primarily human organization of bad apples who are under the control of the asshole, traitorous nobles.”

“Oi vey.”  Neville muttered back to Harry as the main course was whisked away and desert appeared.

“Pretty much.”  Sirius admitted with a grin as he helped himself to some pudding before continuing.  “Anyways, the Forsaken- who took up residence in Lordaeron’s former capital, just in the swearers, ‘ _cause why the bloody hell not_ \- are battling it out for control of the Arathi Basin- a rich, fertile area of significant interest for a number of reasons- so the whole area is pretty much a powder keg sitting on some dynamite near a raging campfire.”

“What makes all of that matter to us is that the Arathi Highlands and the Hillbrad Foothills are just south of the Plaguelands.”  Remus explained after a few moments of silence, mostly due to everyone’s mouths being full.

“And the Syndicate are perfectly happy to take money from the Crusade in exchange for their services, according to Edwin.”  Sirius finished rather cheerfully.  “The Syndicate hates the Alliance nearly as much as they hate the Horde, so as Edwin said- ‘birds of a feather’ and all that.”

“So these Syndicate people would disrupt the work of the Cenarion Circle just because someone paid them to?”  Hermione asked, morally outraged.

“You read that in the papers we recovered from Hearthglen Invasion Number One.”  Sirius pointed out reasonably.  “Why are you surprised?”

“It’s just that—well, I mean- urgh!”  Hermione spluttered indignantly as she stabbed her portion of pudding rather viciously.  “Why would people even _do_ that?  Don’t they know that healing the Plaguelands is for the betterment of _everyone_ in the long run?”

“I have had quite enough of this topic at the dinner table.”  Augusta announced calmly, firmly cutting off the topic with her stern ‘I am Gran and you shall heed me or be subject to my wrath’ tone of voice.  “But the simple answer is that power without purpose or reckless pursuit of power is a curse that siphons the life and vitality of all that it touches.  For to pursue power without regard for one’s fellow man is to forsake one’s own humanity.”

There was a rather lengthy pause, as everyone absorbed the wisdom in that statement.

Naturally, Sirius was the one who shattered the moment of solemnity.

“So, I heard from a little Elf that our lovely Mia received a letter today from one Taelan Fordring.”  Sirius said in a cheery, bright voice.  “Care to share, Mia, dear?”

“ _Sirius Black_!”  The very red faced young woman nearly screeched in embarrassment.  “I’m going to _neuter_ you!”

“Oh, do go on.”  Sirius purred with a wicked grin curling at his mouth.

The grinning Black watched the shock and awe happen as the two youngest males in the household finally cottoned on that Hermione had received a letter of dubious origins from an unrelated man. 

Sirius loved his Godson- and Neville- but watching them flail while trying to reconcile the fact that their sister might have a romantic interest was far too entertaining than it really had any right to be.

Beside him Remus sighed gustily and tried to hide his own grin while Augusta was strategically needling the two younger males.

_Yeah,_ Sirius thought as he helped himself to another slice of pie.  _It’s good to be me._

――ᴖᴗ――

“There are ogre mounds in the Pass?”  Edwin muttered interestedly as he walked beside Sirius.

“Yeah.  We’re not sure where the ogres went, but they’ve been empty for a while as far as we can tell.”  Sirius replied as they ducked through the entrance to the recently purified cave. 

The Karazhan residents had pre-lighted the cave system by putting some Bluebell Flames inside some glass jars and leaving them along the path.

Unlike with the Zul’Gurub mess they had not felt the need for an excessive amount of overkill.  The magically natured fires of the _Integro Inardesco_ \- which roughly meant, ‘to completely burn’- spell were several leagues less potent than the Fiendfyre spell.  The magical fires were fueled with pine linen parchment that were soaked in a potion that took a month to brew- called the Sinner’s Tears Potion- and burned until the fuel ran out.  The cave system was fairly sizable so the fires had burned for about a week or so.

Despite Hermione’s concerns about the Black Dragonflight’s potential abilities potentially causing trouble for Karazhan, the others had pointed out that it would be much easier to monitor the dragons and what state of mind they woke up in if they were nearby.  This had facilitated in a shifting of the wards for the sections along the Pass a bit, but seeing as how they had already fully secured Karazhan disentangling the Pass sections and assigning them separate Secrets was more time consuming than magically difficult. 

They were not being careless, naturally, so all the areas were warded in such a way that if the lesser Secret of a section failed it could be overwritten by the greater Secret of each section, giving Karazhan’s residents two layers of protections before they truly needed to panic.

To the average user of Deadwind Pass there were a few winding, narrow rough-hewn stone paths with steep drop-offs that ran above a large chasm.  The road was not very wide and the chasm was quite forbidding- helped along by a bit of magic that discouraged folks from lingering. 

Karazhan herself- along with her outlying areas- held the primary Secret and even then, the fully realized Secret of Karazhan had three layers of protection. 

So, despite having made three new ‘districts’- neatly bordered sections that were defined by the winding roads and mountains’ curves- all the Karazhan residents would have to do would be go to the Secret Room inside the tower and remove the permissions for the ‘districts’ to exist for the entire area to revert back to the original ward scheme.

Ergo, the entire area- save for the roads- would be neatly under the original _Fidelius_ once more.

_“Failsafes are our friend in this crazy world.”  Hermione had declared passionately when the others had questioned her on each section having two Secrets.  “I don’t want to become arrogant and lose my home.  Not again.”_

_There really was not much of an argument to be made in the face of such a raw, moving statement so the others had acquiesced to Hermione’s insistence on dual-layered protections._

The rounded area at the ‘top’ of the Pass was Ravenclaw; the middling area on the opposite side of Karazhan, Slytherin; the lower section that contained the two cave networks, Hufflepuff.

Each area had two Secrets- one for the workhands, another for trusted people such as Tirion- or, in their present situation, Edwin VanCleef and one of his foremen.

“Well.”  Edwin said once they had gotten pretty deep inside the caves.  “Tripps and his crew should have no trouble getting what you want done.  But how are we going to move supplies?  I understand that we’re in the sett of Hufflepuff’s Pass, but I’m not entirely sure where that is, exactly.”

“That is a security measure, Master VanCleef.”  Augusta pronounced firmly.  “For yourself and your workers.  While I assure you there is nothing nefarious afoot, our arcane experiments are fragile and easily disturbed.  If someone wished to sabotage our research it could be quite catastrophic.”

“As the former leader of a group whose sole purpose was revenge on Stormwind and her people, I can appreciate secrets.”  Edwin replied to the stonewalling with a wry smirk.  “Your family was crucial in getting my life back- in getting my _people’s_ lives back.  You could be preparing to take over the world and I wouldn’t care.”

Sirius spluttered a little.  “Too much bloody paperwork!  I’ve seen you and Tirion’s desks, Ed!”

“That is true.”  Edwin laughed, successfully dispelling the tension.  “Truly, though.  I was well on my way to being the most hated man in all of the human kingdoms and I was fine with that- but this- now……”  Edwin looked away from Augusta and fixed his gaze down the gently lit hallway.  “Now I have a _life_.  Revenge is no way to live.  I understand that now.  My hate for Stormwind will always be there but with the Guild and the Order- well, it’s better this way.  Even _Brighteyes_ is happier now.  Tirion made her the head of his- well, the Silver Hand’ Infiltration Division.  And ‘ol Smitey and Greenskin already have prototypes for _three new styles of ships_ for the new Silver Dawn Port that’s being built in Tirisfal.”

“I’m so glad!”  Hermione sighed happily.  “Brighteyes helped me with some of my footwork while we were in Hearthglen.  She just showed up on afternoon and started correcting my stance while we were warming up to spar.  She’s amazing!”  Hermione tugged on her braided hair a bit.  “sorry if I kept her from her duties, but she’s just so expressive, even though she never says anything with her voice!”

“It’s fine, Miss Granger.”  Edwin assured the young woman with a small half-smile.  “But it only brings into sharper relief why I am willing to lend the Guild’s expertise to build a chamber I do not know the purpose of.  You are heralds of change- welcome change, in both my and the Fordring’s cases- and while I don’t doubt that you are just as human as I am, I have faith in your intentions.  Not enough to fulfill this request for free, of course.”  Edwin finished with a roguish grin.

“Yes, yes.”  Sirius groused theatrically.  “Take _more_ of my precious gold.”

“I _will_ , thank ye kindly.”  Edwin retorted cheerfully.  “And don’t complain all that much!  Your gold is so pure you don’t have to part with all that much of it!”

“I still say-“  Sirius’ rejoinder was cut off by the exasperated Augusta.

“We are going to be opening Portals for your workers.”  Augusta went on to explain.  “Tirion has the mirror that is enchanted to call us and we will open up the site for you to being supplies and whatnot through.  Are you going to want to send your workers back to Hearthglen each night?”

“If it wouldn’t be an undue amount of bother.”  Edwin said, glancing at each person’s blasé countenance before glancing at his bemused foreman and huffing an incredulous laugh. “You really have no idea how outlandish your casual mentions of magic are to the common folk, do you?”

Hermione wrinkled her nose a bit and asked.  “Is it really so outlandish?  I mean, Portals aren’t really all that difficult, not once you grow accustomed to the arcane energy’s path for them.”

“For your average Mage?  Yes.”  Edwin admitted dryly.  “Mages are classed as Novice, Apprentice, Magus, Mage, Grand Master Mage, and finally Grand Magister- or Archmage.  Casual Portal opening to areas with a homemade Beacon or Marker?  That’s at least Magus level magic and I’d wager that even in Dalaran- which had the Kirin Tor and the Silvermoon magic users- Magus-level magic users were fairly sparse, all considered.  And if you did find ‘em they’d most likely have been old enough to be your father, Miss Granger.”

“Not to mention that even Dalaran had a propensity to train male humans over females.  I grew up there- back before it was destroyed.”  Foreman Tripps murmured quietly.  “Most of the female magic users were High Elves.  Jaina Proudmoore was an exception and she had the bloodline to back it up.  It still took quite a while and relentless badgering on her part to get the Kirin Tor to take her seriously and train her properly.”

“Wow.”  Hermione breathed; stunned.  She quickly quashed the feelings of superiority that washed through her and tried to take up residence while also firmly clamping down on her feminist-inspired outrage.  She had been there, done that, and eating humble pie _sucked_ ; furthermore ranting about the blatant unfairness of such a skewed system to her present company would do her no favors.  “I had no idea.”

“You should be cautious.”  Edwin advised her, his eyes full of careful warning.  “All of you.  The arcane isn’t well liked by all and there are a lot of shady types who would love to wring your secrets about the arts out of you the hard way, if you know what I mean.” 

“Kel’Thuzad- who founded the Cult of the Dammed and spread the plague across Lordaeron- was once a member of the Kirin Tor.”  Tripps added in the wake of Edwin’s statement.  “Actually he was once even a member of the Council of Six and his dark legacy casts a long shadow for current arcane users.”  Tripps smiled wanly at Hermione.  “He was actually engaged to my cousin at one point in time.  They parted ways long before he left on his journey, but she killed herself out of shame- due to her previous association with him- not long after Lordaeron fell.”

“I knew that Kel’Thuzad had been a Dalaran mage, but I had no idea.”  Hermione breathed out, horrorstruck. 

The idea that the man with the salt-and-pepper colored hair and kind smile had once not only known Kel’Thuzad, but had actually nearly been related to him struck Hermione hard.  While she had learned the history of these lands mostly from arcane tomes- some of them self-updating or illicitly linked to journals kept by various families or appointed persons, Sargeras-as-Medivh had not exactly been courteous about boundaries or personal space- and a series of dreams, these people had _lived through_ those events.

_How tragic_.  Hermione thought desolately as she struggled to find her inner balance after such a startling epiphany.  _To have known the monster who destroyed your entire kingdom as something other than an evil fiend._

Then Edwin smiled, his eyes once again full of good humor; the crinkles around his eyes creasing with friendly amusement.  “But, if you’re offering, having the boys back home every night would make you mighty popular.” 

“Well, even more than you already are.”  Tripps amended with a small smile.

“Sounds like a plan then!”  Sirius broke in with a goofy grin as he bounced forward and began to chatter about the tunnels and what work they wanted done on them.

The warning the man had given them was not forgotten, however.  It stayed inside their minds and hearts and prompted much discussion throughout the next several months.

――ᴖᴗ――

 “Ow.”  Sirius groaned miserably as he stumbled a bit, having not exhibited his usual grace in Portkey-ing back home.  “ _Owowowowow_.”

“Rough day?”  Harry asked his Godfather with a mischievous grin.

Sirius glared at his Godson. 

_Balefully and with much feeling._

“Tirion Fordring is attempting to murder me.”  Sirius wailed expressively as he staggered over to the nearest wall and all but collapsed against it.  “Cruelly and unusually, might I add.”

Harry’s laughter was cut off by the slightly unsightly arrival of Remus, who looked just as wrung out as Sirius.

“Laugh all you want, kiddo.”  Remus panted as he staggered over and pulled up his own piece of wall.  “But we’re headed off to begin training with the Cenarion Circle soon and then _you’ll_ be the one crawling along the corridor.  I will not only laugh, I will _point and laugh_.”

“Ah, yes.”  Sirius perked up as he once again zeroed in on his Godson.  “You, Neville, and Remus are going to be traveling to Moonglade- Nighthaven, _whatever;_ it’s all Druid Nirvana to me- next month.  Like, in just a few weeks, actually.  Once the Circle takes up residence in Tyr’s Hand and knows what they need to send for from Druid Nirvana.” 

“What day is it, again?”  Remus moaned pitifully.  “I think it’s closer to two months than a month, Siri.  The Circle wants to gather samples and such before they stuff us on the first ship back to Moonglade.” 

“Whatever.”  Sirius groused as he blinked slowly and tried to think through his exhaustion.  “The point is- see how much you’re going to be laughing once you enter into training and all your muscles feel like overcooked pasta while your brain shrivels up and _dies_ from information overload.” 

Sirius broke into an entirely cliché evil villain laugh.

“Uhm, did Tirion break Sirius?”  Hermione asked as she came into view, obviously having just exited the Library.  “I mean, he’s always been a bit _cracked_ but…”

“Oi!”  Sirius returned indignantly.

“You resemble that?”  Harry guessed with a grin at Sirius’ wince after his cat-bristling.

“Just know that while you’re crying in treeville hoping for some sympathy I’ll be past the ‘I feel like I’m dying’ stage and silently laughing at you.”  Sirius vowed passionately.  “All the way over here.  I hope you hear it in your _dreams_.”

“Uh huh.”  Harry said, entirely unfazed by his Godfather’s grandstanding.  “Sure.”

“On a related note, how do you feel having finished the first full week of Silver Hand training?”  Hermione asked the two obviously battered men curiously.  “And how are things progressing on the Tyr’s Hand front?

“Bruised.  From my pride to my even more spectacular than before derrière.”  Sirius replied promptly as he began to inch himself towards his room.  Like a slightly oversized worm.  “I do intend to have a chat with Edwin about hot showers and a bathhouse, though.”

“I don’t even know how the other trainees are coping without hot showers.”  Remus admitted freely, also beginning to inch towards his rooms.  “Some of the buildings have hot water, but not very much of it.  Only places like Silvermoon City or Dalaran used magic for such things, according to the scuttlebutt, but Sirius and I have _plans_.”

“So, after our super-secret meeting and the building of the Cradles, you’re going to bug the Head of the Stonemasons Guild about _hot water and bathhouses_?”  Hermione asked somewhat incredulously.  “And you didn’t answer my second question.”

“Needs must.”  Sirius declared fervently before his brain finally began working again and he added.  “And I’m supposed to ask if we would be willing to open Portals for them.  The Cenarion Circle people, that is.  They are set to arrive in Booty Bay- the Goblin port in the Cape of Stranglethorn, just south of where the Zul’Gurub place once stood- within the week.  Tirion didn’t want to ask, but they have lost more ground than planned near Stratholme and he really needs the forces from Tyr’s Hand freed up so that they can help push back at the Scourge offensive.”  Sirius continued wriggling towards his room.  “Granted, I already told him that we would help, so Augusta is going to have to take you guys down to Booty Bay to wait for the Circle people so you can Portal then to Tyr’s Hand so that Tirion can have his troops back.  I’ll set one of the extra temporary Beacons there tomorrow.”

“What he said.”  Remus muttered in stolid agreement as the two men finally inched out of sight.  “Also, it is why Tirion’s being so harsh about our training regimen, he wants to send out some of the fledgling members to help so those that have been on the front lines for months can get some much-needed and well-deserved rest.  Sirius and I are sort of getting a crash course because Siri is going to be helping the Silver Hand quite a bit while we’re off training.  He and Tirion and Ed have been _plotting_.”

“Did I tell you that Ed said that the Circle guys are kicking around the idea of making a stronghold where that Zul’Gurub place once stood?”  Sirius asked randomly, not really wanting to speak of his risky plots with the others just yet. 

Sirius would have to tell Gran, but he did not want the others to worry while they were off learning new and exciting things.  He was a grown man, he could take care of himself.

He hoped.

“No.”  Remus grunted in mild amusement.  “You didn’t.”

“Huh.  Well, _apparently_ Vol’jin- he’s Thralls’s Second-in-Command and the leader of the Darkspear Trolls; the tribe that officially joined the Horde- talked to the remaining Gurubashi- the tribe that originally got mixed up with Hakkar the Soulflayer- and they all decided that allowing a neutral faction such as the Circle to lay claim to the lands would be in everyone’s best interest.”  Sirius momentarily abandoned his quest for a shower while he flopped down to rest for a moment.  “Granted, it is not really something the races of the Alliance will be overly pleased about, but I think it is a brilliant idea myself.  _Ed’s_ pretty excited about it because it will mean even more work for the Stonemason’s Guild.  _Tirion’s_ excited about it because the Circle- in return for being able to use the land- is considering forming a sister organization for Shaman, which would be quite helpful for Thrall and his personal quest for the Orcs to rediscover their Shamanistic roots.”

“The Tauren- who are also part of the Horde- have a significant interest in Shamanism as well.”  Hermione mused thoughtfully.  “It really would be quite brilliant for such an organization to exist.  And what better partner than the Druids?  It’s practically a match made in Heaven!”

“The Cenarion Circle is quite passionate about rejuvenating the land for the betterment of all and I really have not heard anything negative about them, save for their reluctance to become embroiled in the Alliance versus the Horde conflicts.”  Remus mused thoughtfully as he inched towards his rooms- and more importantly, a hot shower.  “So, really, I think that it’s a great idea.  Especially as adding a Shamanistic arm would open up opportunities for even more people to come together for the good of Azeroth as a whole.”

“Not to mention having Druids as our neighbors is bound to make Nev happy.”  Harry quipped with a good-natured grin towards his brother.

Neville shrugged and grinned back at Harry.  “Guilty as charged.”

“It’s been nearly four months since the liberation of Hearthglen, so the first batch of trained-from-scratch initiates are at the point that they could use some experience in the field.”  Sirius grunted as he levered himself up onto his feet and shuffled along the wall towards the hallway.  “Tirion also asked me to pass along a round of thanks for all the work you guys did on the First Aid Manual, by the way.  He’s really happy with it.”

“Yes, you all did a splendid job on that.”  Remus told them with a warm smile as he, too, leaned heavily against the wall and began to shuffle towards his rooms.  “I know you had a lot of help in that Hermione’s father had some military manuals from his days in the service, but you really went above and beyond to help adapt the information and tailor it to Azeroth.  Tirion, High-Champion George, and Champion Dawnbringer are projecting at least a forty percent increase in survival rates once the medics grow accustomed to using the Manual’s guidelines.”

“They’ll be some revisions once we get used to Azerothian potions- Alchemy- and such, but I’m happy that it seems to have helped.  Or will help in the future, at least.”  Hermione told them with a smile, though she was slightly worried about how slowly they were moving.

“See you at dinner, brats.”  Sirius muttered as he finally reached his door and stumbled his way inside.  “I’m going to take a shower so maybe I can feel human again.”

“Do you really think it’s going to be that bad?”  Harry asked Hermione with more than a bit of trepidation.

“Well.”  Hermione stated reasonably, a mischievous grin tugging at her lips.  “You’re only going to be learning archery from people who have had _millennia_ to hone their skills.  Even if you decide that the path of the Hunter isn’t for you, the bow-work is bound to be…… _intense_.”

“Dun dun dun, I’m dead.”  Harry wailed morosely as he threw himself at Hermione, catching her around the waist and wailing.  “Save me!”

Hermione pried her dramatic brother’s hands from her waist and huffed primly.  “And just think, this is only Siri and Moony’s _first week_.  They haven’t even added the practical application of Paladin spell training yet.  That’s _next_ week~!”

Harry’s wails of soon-to-be-misery made Hermione laugh all the way to the far study room that had been set up for the Cradle Project also known as ‘The Plot to Save the Black Dragonflight’.

Of course, Harry always added ‘And Whoever Else We Apparently Broke Time To Maybe Help.”

But Hermione usually blissfully ignored that part.

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞―≡―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―◊―――


	7. Growing Pains

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞―≡―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―◊―――

“Throm'ka, brother!  It is good to see you again!”  Thrall’s voice boomed as the green-skinned Orc embraced Tirion warmly.

“You as well, my friend.”  Tirion said warmly to his friend as they separated and stood slightly apart.  “Thank the Light for seeing you here safely.”  Tirion glanced to the side and his grin tugged itself even wider.  “And you even managed to drag along our cantankerous brother.”

Eitrigg snorted derisively even as he stepped forward and exchanged greetings with Tirion.  “You are as annoying as ever little brother.”  The old Orc grunted waspishly, though good humor swirled within his dark gaze.  “Shall I remind you of that time you decided to take a _nap_ in the middle of battle?”

“I hardly believe having half a stone wall fall on my head and knocking me unconscious could be considered ‘taking a nap’, Eitrigg.”  Tirion shot back with a grin.  “But you are quite advanced in years, brother, and they say the mind is the first thing to go, so-“

Thrall broke out into loud, rumbling chuckles as Eitrigg harrumphed and muttered something about ‘brats’ and ‘betters’.

“Tirion, old friend, never change.”  Thrall proclaimed as he clasped Tirion lightly on the shoulder and waved for his people to begin disembarking.

“Actually, Thrall, there’s been a bit of a change in plans.”  Tirion said, causing Thrall to hold up a hand to halt his people’s actions while he looked at Tirion curiously.

“I’m afraid that the change in plans is our fault, Warchief.”  Augusta said with a smile as she inclined her head at the leader respectfully.  “Originally everything- and everyone- who are heading to Tyr’s Hand were going to be offloaded and then sent through a Portal, however-“

“- we found a way to circumvent the need to offload everything here.”  Hermione chimed in excitedly.

“Thrall, Eitrigg meet Lady Augusta Longbottom, Lady Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, and Neville Longbottom.”  Tirion introduced the four humans with a wide smile.  “They- along with Lord Sirius Black and Master Remus Lupin- have been beyond vital to me and mine.”

Thrall inclined his head lightly at the newcomers, at all times extremely wary of humans he did not know the measure of personally, but willing enough to trust Tirion’s judgement for now.  “Mok'ra.”  He said rather neutrally, using a far less cordial and informal greeting than he had used for Tirion.

The Lady Longbottom quite obviously caught the casual insult, but did not comment on it.

“At any rate, we discovered how to make a Portal large enough for you ships to go through without needing to offload everything manually!”  The younger woman informed them cheerfully.  “It won’t stay open very long, but it’ll save a lot of time and effort for everyone!”

“How is that even possible?”  Thrall asked somewhat incredulously, stunned and slightly terrified at the implications of such a thing.

The tactical advantages alone…..

“Well, older incarnations of the Portal spell were far less flexible than the modern versions.”  Hermione continued to explain with a bright smile.  “I was looking over them a few mornings ago- I was trying to figure out how Portals adjust in order to traverse the Maelstrom, but that’s beside the current point- and I realized that I could potentially make a one-way Portal.”

“Mia is rather excited about her new twist on an old spell.”  Harry said as he casually covered his sister’s mouth. 

Hermione, rather predictably, licked his hand, causing him to yelp in alarm.

“But our resident genius managed to engineer a Portal that will allow your ships to pass through.”  Neville informed them with a grin.  “The harbor in Tyr’s Hand actually sits at a higher elevation, so the ships with wobble a bit, but the three test ships we’ve sent through have all done fine.  It’s a little rougher coming from Tyr’s Hand to here, but it is manageable.”

“Well, to be fair, we had to make a stabilizer.”  Hermione admitted somewhat sheepishly.  “We engraved certain, key stabilization matrixes into four posts- that we received special permission from Baron Revilgaz and Fleet Master Seahorn to set up, so we could even _test_ the silly things- that anchor the spell.  The matrixes are also what keeps the Portal stable as the ship travels through, as the very first version……collapsed.”

“The sea water trying to move through the Portal destabilized it.”  Harry explained to the newcomers.  “It was surprisingly easy to fix, but that first explosion was quite….impressive.”

“I’m fairly certain that the explosion is why Baron Revilgaz allowed the experiment to continue.”  Augusta added wryly. 

“He does seem rather fond of anything that could possibly go boom.”  Neville chipped in cheerfully.

“At any rate, we fixed the issue and successfully opened- and sent two ships through without harm- yesterday, so there is no need to offload everything!”

“That is….incredible.”  Thrall said slowly as he eyed them with no little trepidation.  “And your King is allowing you to tell us, the leaders of the Horde, this information?”

The humans blinked slowly and looked at the Warchief oddly.

“Thrall, my friends are not affiliated with Stormwind or Theramore.”  Tirion informed the confused Warchief firmly.  “Their magic is theirs to do with as they please.” 

“I meant no offense!”  Thrall tacked on hurriedly.

“It’s fine, Warchief Thrall.”  Lady Longbottom replied graciously before she turned towards Tirion.  “Shall we get on with things?”

――ᴖᴗ――

Augusta shared a concerned glance with Sirius and Remus, while across the meeting table the Karazhan teens went grimly silent.

“I believe that an Undead- a victim of the Plague or even a former slave of the Lich King- could break free from their ‘master’s’ control and regain their sense of self.”  Augusta said very slowly and deliberately.  “However.” 

The august woman grimaced as she paused and flicked a quick glance at the unusually grim Sirius.

“However.”  Sirius took up in Augusta’s stead, his voice lined with steel and coated in stalwart conviction.  “A nathrezim or dreadlord- or whatever you want to call them- has no will but destruction and chaos.”  Sirius held up a hand and continued.  “I realize that the Banshee Queen is your ally- and we have no quarrel with her or her people- but so long as Varimathras resides with the Forsaken our Order will abstain from providing aid that might be used by Varimathras and his ilk.”

Thrall’s eyes narrowed contemplatively as he took in the man across from him.

In the three days since he had arrived in Tyr’s Hand he had seen the Order of the Phoenix do great- and potentially terrible- things with magic that Thrall had never even heard of.

Yet they were polite and helpful to everyone- Orc, Human, Goblin, _Undead_.   The Order was just as helpful to the newly formed Earthen Ring members as they were to the Cenarion Circle members. 

Thrall had mentioned wishing he had known about the ‘Ship Portals’ sooner so they could have brought more supplies and the young woman- Hermione- had offered to open a Portal to Orgrimmar so that Thrall could send people through to ready more ships. 

Hermione had even graciously opened up a return Portal to Booty Bay- though they still had to pay docking fees- so that the ships could return to Orgrimmar to be restocked!  Seeing as how the Horde fleet was not what one would consider ‘over equipped’ just yet, that had been quite the boon as most of the supplies for the Circle and the Ring were coming from Hamuul Runetotem, the Tauren’s Archdruid in Moonglade as Fandral Staghelm, the Night Elf Archdruid, was currently locked in a power struggle with Tyrande Whisperwind back in Darnassus.

Ergo, most of the supplies for the expedition to Tyr’s Hand were coming through Horde channels. 

According to the missive Thrall had received from Hamuul just before he left Orgrimmar, Staghelm had been in Darnassus for nearly five months and showed no inclination to come back to Moonglade anytime soon, despite the Night Elf Druids sending many missives asking for Staghelm’s council or commands.

The Earthen Ring- the newly established, sister organization to the Cenarion Circle for Shaman- was currently host to only Horde races- such as the Tauren, Orcs, and Darkspear Trolls.  The revered High Shaman Oreg Earthfury had agreed to become the leader of the new venture. 

Thrall held out hope that the Earthen Ring would flourish and Shamanism would once again become a major interest to his people. 

While Vol’jin had secured permission from the Trolls of Stranglethorn Vale for the building of the Earthen Ring’s future stronghold on the land where Zul’Gurub once stood, the work on the buildings would not commence until after the new year. 

Not only did the Earthen Ring need to spend time surveying the land and plotting out the logistics, Tirion had requested that the Circle and the Ring stay in Tyr’s Hand en mass until the ground that had been lost to the Scourge during this rapid campaign against the Crusade had been recovered.

It was along the same vein that Thrall had asked Tirion to call a meeting with Tirion and the Paladin’s unusual magi allies.

Sylvanas- the Banshee Queen of the Undercity and the leader of the Forsaken- had her hands full with issues in the Silverpine Forest and the holdouts in Tirisfal Glades, so the disappearance of the Scarlet Crusade had been unexpected, but helpful.  Word of Tirion’s return to the fight had reached her via Archibald, a Forsaken who had been at Hearthglen during its liberation from the Scarlet Crusade.  Due to this information she had not seen fit to disturb the Argent Dawn-Silver Hand forces during their retaking of the Monastery in Tirisfal Glades. 

Tirion and High Champion Raymond George- the leader of the Argent Dawn- had sent a missive with one of the Forsaken prisoners that had been released after the Dawn-Hand forces had taken control of the Monastery, explaining their plans to build a port and that they did not plan to interfere in Sylvanas’ operations.  The two Paladins had gone on to explain that they had wanted the Monastery due to its abundance of Clerical information, as it had been the stronghold of Lordaeron’s Clerics long before the Scarlet Crusade had taken up residence inside it.

As the Monastery was rather worthless to Sylvanas’ goals and Tirion had proven to be as honorable as ever, the Banshee Queen had not seen fit to oppose such a thing.  Especially as Tirion had specifically mentioned that the Dawn-Hand forces would eventually be taking the fight to Arthas in Northrend. 

If there was anyone who could manage to breach the frozen continent and cut a path to Icecrown Citadel and the Throne of the Lich King, it would be Tirion Fordring.

However, Sylvanas had sensed a chance to end- or at least mitigate- her people’s curse on the winds as her people reported back to her about the strange magi’s unusual magics.  After pouring over the multitude of reports from Forsaken forces that had been in Hearthglen or the Monastery Sylvanas had sent word to Thrall, asking the Warchief to open a line of communication with Tirion and most importantly, the strange magi that had been assisting him. 

Thus, Thrall has requested a meeting with Tirion and his magi friends once things had settled down a bit, but things were not going quite as planned.

“It is not the Forsaken you object to, but Sylvanas’ second-in-command?”  Thrall asked slowly, trying to understand the sudden change in their demeanor.

“I realize that you have no reason to trust our word.”  Sirius continued with a heavy sigh.  “But while it is possible for a _person_ to break free and regain their sense of self, a demon- especially a nathrezim- is an entirely different matter.”

“But he has sworn his service to Sylvanas.”  Thrall argued, trying to get his point across.  “He broke the code and killed a fellow nathrezim to do so in order to prove his loyalty.”

Hermione shook her head negatively.  “That’s not possible.”  The young woman smiled at the slightly offended guards beside the Warchief.  “I’m not saying that Warchief Thrall or Lady Sylvanas is lying- I’m sure they are not!- but nathrezim or dreadlords are a special sort of evil.”  The young woman grimaced as she exchanged glances with her compatriots. 

“The nathrezim do not die, they return to the Twisting Nether and regenerate.”  Harry- the green eyed teen- told Thrall grimly.  “That’s why their body disperses into energy when you manage to score a fatal blow.”

“Even then, no matter who ordered it, a nathrezim would only turn on one of their kind if it gave them a better foothold in a world they wanted to consume.”  Augusta went on to say, her lips twisting into a faint snarl as her gaze bore steadily into Thrall’s own.  “They are quite literally the embodiment of trickery, deception, and guile.  They take pride in corrupting worlds and revel in destruction.  The only reason one would be seen as ‘tamed’ would be because it has already found proxies from which to wreak havoc.”

“But when Orgrim Doomhammer defeated the demon Mannoroth the Orcs were freed from the Curse of Blood.”  Thrall pointed out tolerantly.

“I’ve read about him!”  Hermione replied with a small smile.  “He was an amazing man, despite the circumstances.  Mannoroth was a pit lord, though, a being born of hatred in the Nether.”

“Demons are formed when the energies of the Void and the Light blend in the boundary area we call the Twisting Nether.”  Sirius explained, mostly to head off Thrall’s next comment.

“How do you know this, Sirius?”  Tirion asked curiously, his whole body radiating patient interest.

“There’s only so much I can say.”  Sirius said with a heavy sigh.  “But you could say that we are historians of a sort.”  The man quirked a small, wry smile.  “Sometimes it is more of a curse than a blessing, to be honest, but we were given certain knowledge to safeguard as part of our passage to Azeroth from our home world.”

“Seeing the radiance of the Light, even just for a moment, was pretty incredible.”  Harry said with a soft, heartfelt smile; then the smile faded and his eyes grew haunted.  “Of course, we also got a glimpse of the Void and that-“  The young man’s statement broke off and he shivered involuntarily. 

When he raised his gaze once again, Thrall’s breath caught at the depth of emotion swirling in the young man’s eyes.  _No human should ever have eyes like that_ , Thrall thought in horrified realization, as ice slid down his spine and his gut turned to stone.

For there was something dark and endless in the young man’s eyes- in all of their eyes- that spoke of ancient grudges and insurmountable odds. 

Though there was hope there, too. 

Stubbornly flitting about the endless vacuum of darkness and despair that hung in their eyes, bright, buoying hope threaded light and joy and courage inside that infinite darkness; making the impossible not so far out of reach.

Thrall’s hands stayed steady through sheer willpower.

“Put your faith in the Light and all is possible.”  Tirion said firmly, breaking the spell and bringing them all back to the cozy meeting room inside Mardenholde Keep. 

The Paladin was truly amazing, Thrall thought fondly, as the man sat there and radiated confidence and assurance even after witnessing the depth and breadth of their true enemy.

“Well said, Tirion.”  Augusta replied with a grin that was two parts stubborn courage and one part borrowed nerve.

Thrall watched the spines of the human’s straighten, witnessed the resolve firm in their eyes and the Warchief decided- in that exact moment- to go against his usual distaste for humans and to take them at their word.  They were much like him and his people, after all.  Refugees who had embraced Azeroth and called her soil their home; people who were more than ready and willing to defend her from any enemy, foreign or domestic.

“So what should we do to rid ourselves of the menace?”  Thrall asked.  “Sylvanas will not be pleased, but perhaps you have something to offer her in return?”

Augusta’s Longbottom’s short chuckle was a sharp thing; a poison coated dagger in the dark poised precariously at the back of an unwary foe.

It was then that Thrall could see the fighter- the protective, furious mother- that lurked behind that politicians’ smile.

The Warchief sent a quick prayer to his ancestors that he would never be on the opposing side of this formidable woman.  For Thrall held no doubt that the Lady Longbottom would dive into the depths of the Void itself to save the ones she loved.

That she had stared at into the Void and had it stare back at her only made her that much more frightening.

――ᴖᴗ――

_Lady Longbottom would have made a fine Orc._   The Warchief thought with no little amusement once the meeting had concluded and they went their separate ways.

――ᴖᴗ――

“Ok, Dobby.  What’s up?”  Sirius asked the leader of the Rangers.

The excitable little House Elf had requested Family Meeting just before the Cenarion Circle had been set to arrive, but with everything happening in Tyr’s Hand and Hearthglen, they had only now gotten around to convening aforementioned meeting.

The Cenarion Circle and the Earthen Ring were now comfortably established in Tyr’s Hand and the Dawn-Hand forces had been relieved of their duties at Tyr’s Hand.  Thrall had only been able to stay for just over a week, as the truce between the Horde and Theramore was fragile at the very best of times, but the Warchief had promised to get back to the Karazhan group after speaking with Sylvanas personally on the matter of her second-in-command.

“Well.”  Dobby began somewhat hesitantly before he paused to tug anxiously on one of his ears.

That in and of itself, was a red flag to everyone else seated around the table in the War Room as Dobby had grown much more confident over the time they had been on Azeroth and he only reverted to his old habits when he was severely uneasy or stressed.  So the fact that the dragonhide clad little being with the daggers strapped across his back was shuffling around nervously was quite alarming.

“It’s alright, Dobby.  Take your time.”  Harry told the elf kindly as he ran a critical eye over his friend.

All of the elves had changed slightly in appearance over their time in Azeroth.  Their ears were still rather bat-like, but their skin tones were now varying shades of peach, as opposed to the baby pink or grey they had been originally. 

The female elves had always had wisps of hair, but now all of the elves had at least _some_ hair. 

Granted, that hair- for whatever reason- favored rather bright colors such as candy pink or shock white and tended to be extremely curly, but it was hair.  Hermione had remarked that the texture of the elves’ new hair reminded her of the dolls her grandmother had collected, as it was quite silky for all that it was rather brittle and unwieldy.  The male House Elves seemed to have a propensity for ear hair, arm hair, and facial hair while the female elves tended to have hair on their heads and- for whatever reason- their feet.

The Karazhan humans had lost interest in the phenomena when they had discovered that the hair that _they_ considered a little odd was actually quite attractive among House Elf kind.

Their noses were still a bit prominent, but their limbs had filled out somewhat making them look less like stick dolls and more like actual, tiny people.  Their feet were still a bit large and disproportionate, but overall they looked much healthier, if not a bit strange to those who had never seen a House Elf.

Dobby nodded jerkily, causing his bat-like ears to flap rather awkwardly as he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, held the breath for a long moment and then released it slowly through his nose.  “Do yous remember those Gnolls that be allies of the Stoney Masons?”

“Yes.”  Hermione said with a curious expression.  “There are some other Gnolls trying to come up from Arathi as well.  Redpine Gnolls?”  She shook her head sharply and refocused on Dobby.  “What about them?”

“Aren’t they the little hyena-hybrid guys?”  Neville asked as he tried to remember what they looked like.  “They can speak some, but mostly they run at you while making a noise somewhere between a squirrel’s chitter and a chicken’s cluck.”  The young man’s lips twisted into a grimace.  “They are super aggressive, too.”

“Yes, theys bes who Dobby is speaking about.”  Dobby informed Neville with a smaller than usual smile.  “Dobby and Finley were coming back to Hearthglens when we came across some of the ones near Master’s Tirion’s Outpost Towers and Dobby noticed….well, Dobby doesn’t know how to bes saying it.”  The elf looked over to the seemingly ancient elf he had brought to the meeting with him as if asking for permission to continue speaking.

“I am Traps.”  The elf said in a crinkly tone of voice that seemed just as creaky at the elf’s joints.  “I am the eldest elf in the Conspiracy.”

“Oh?”  Hermione asked with a bright smile.  “May I ask how old you are, exactly?”

The elf smiled kindly at the young woman, showing off his chipped and broken teeth.  “House Elves- we measure our lives in a different manner than humans.  Long ago, shortly after House Elves found Balance we were a short lived, warring people.  We had no purpose and no peace and we killed each other as well as any who dared to approach us.  “

“Then came the Forefather.”  Dobby added cheerfully, much more at ease now that Traps had spoken which helped him speak a bit more clearly as well.  “According to the legend that has been passed down from our ancestors, the man had originally come to slaughter all of us because wes had murdered his son who had wandered too far away from the family’s home.  Instead he found that we were simple beings who held no purpose and in honor of his son he bound us to his home as caretakers and servants.  That is how we became known as House Elves.”

“The Forefather only meant to bind the one band of us, but we all shared a connection and over time more of our kin flocked to the home to find peace and purpose in our Bond.”  Traps continued calmly with a small smile at the somewhat abashed Dobby.  “Over time the Bond changed and magic shaped us differently and important things were lost to the magicals we served, but all House Elves are taught about the Time Before and what we were before the Forefather gifted us with peace and purpose in memory of his son.”

“Dobby, do you think that the Gnolls are like these- er, pre-House Elves?”  Harry asked curiously as his mind made the jump between the story and the purpose of the meeting.

“Yes, Master Harry!”  The younger elf said forcefully.  “The Gnolls feel like the stories of the House Elves of the Bad Times.  Dobby does not know if they can be helped like the Forefather helped us but Dobby would like for Master to consider trying.”

“In response to your unanswered question, Lady Mia, House Elves do not measure our lives in ages, but in Masters served.  I am twelve by a House Elf’s reckoning, but just short of three hundred by yours.”  Traps interjected before the conversation moved too far along without having answered his Lady’s query.  “And you are correct.  Dobby- and the others that have gone to observe these Gnolls- believe that they could possibly benefit from a Bond.”

“I don’t really like the idea of enslaving a sentient species.”  Hermione said with a grimace, though she rushed to add.  “But I can see things from the perspective of them needing balance and purpose, too.”

“Even if I can understand their possible need for purpose, I really don’t want to bind them here, to the Tower.”  Neville added with his own thoughtful frown.  “I am perfectly happy with our family and while I wouldn’t be opposed to helping these Gnolls, I don’t want them bound to us or Karazhan.”

“We don’t even know how the original House Elves were originally bound.”  Augusta pointed out reasonably.  “Even if we wanted to help that magic is lost to us.”

“That is not entirely true, Lady Gus.”  Traps informed Augusta firmly.  “House Elves remember; House Elves have _always_ remembered.  But on Earth there were Old Magics that prevented us from speaking of such things.”

“But those magics don’t extend to Azeroth?”  Hermione guessed.

“That is correct, Lady Mia.”  Traps agreed with a small smile.  “It is actually being a simple spell, but there needs to be a place with lots of people calling it home for many years for the spell to latch on correctly.”

“Like the Forefather’s family home.”  Dobby supplied meekly.

Sirius tapped his pursed lips with his index finger while he and the others mulled over the information.  “What about Hearthglen?”  He asked suddenly, allowing his previously tipped back chair to resettle onto all four legs, as proper.  “It’s secure and I’m sure that Tirion would have plenty of use for some extra helpers.”

“It has been around for quite a long time, too!”  Hermione interjected with a bright smile as she scribbled down some notes.  “And I’m certain that Tirion and Taelan would treat the Gnolls fairly.”  Hermione  grimaced a little and asked Traps.  “Do we have any idea how they will change if we bind them?  Or if they will consent?  Consent is important!”

“Theys minds is being too…busy?  To understand right now.”  Dobby explained, tugging on his ears a bit.  “After we can asks and they should be able to answer, but right now theys are not able to understand.  All they know is to fight.”

“They are also drawn to power.”  Traps added, struggling to find words for the humans.  “They follow Master Edwin because he defeated them.  So maybe Master Tirion be doing the same?”

“It’s borderline barbaric.”  Hermione said with a pronounced frown as she made little arrows and notes on her piece of paper.  “But as the alternative is simply killing them, I am unsure of the moral high ground in this situation.”

“I’m not entirely sure that there is a moral high ground.”  Augusta stated rather grimly.  “But we shall ask Tirion for his opinion before we make a decision.  I would think that even if we went through with this and bound the Gnolls to Hearthglen that Tirion would be loath to keep them there against their will.”

“That is very true.”  Hermione said, brightening considerably at the thought.  “So if the bond did help them and they wished to be released, Tirion and Taelan would allow that.”  The young woman blew out a relieved breath.  “That makes me feel a bit more comfortable with the situation.”

“Us too.”  Was the general consensus of the other humans.

The two House Elves shared a rather exasperated look, but did not say anything as the humans began discussing the morality of the issue versus the alternatives.

Humans were so _bizarre_ sometimes.

――ᴖᴗ――

The last thing Trass remembered was a burning desire to devour.

A deep, all consuming desire that had ruled her every breath, every action, and every thought.  A burning need not unlike a hunger that seethed in her mind and drowned out all conscious thought as it rose in pitch unceasingly.

_Power.  Conquest.  Blood._

Only those things had mattered.  The strong ruled, the weak died, and there was never such as thing as _enough_.

The small being brought up a hand to her eyes- and since when had her paws been so steady?- as she tried to massage her temples and understand what had happened to her.

“Are you alright?”

Trass turned her head and startled slightly at the sight of a human so near to her.  Reflex made her reach for a weapon but the action was aborted when she suddenly realized that she no longer felt the burning need to _destroy_.

“What happened?”  Trass chittered in her best approximation of the human language.

Apparently she had managed well enough because the human woman’s eyes lit up with happiness.  “Oh, thank goodness!  Are you alright?  Are you hurt?  Do you feel strange?  Do you need anything?”

“Hermione, let the poor dear get a word in edgewise.”  Another human voice said and Trass was somewhat bemused to realize that she could recognize a number of emotions in the tone other than just ‘human voice’.

“What happened?”  Trass repeated somewhat plaintively as she looked around and noticed the slumbering forms of her fellow clan members.

Only they looked different.

Instead of seeming like a rather lopsided, top-heavy hyena that stood on two legs, their bodies were more proportionate for all that it was still covered in fur, had a tail, and possessed four paws.  Most of her clan members were lying on their sides, but their faces were peaceful, a novel sight for Trass to behold, as a Gnoll’s dreams were usually plagued by vicious nightmares.  The fur that once mostly ran down their spine had shifted a bit to accommodate a more humanoid facial structure, though their features were still definitively vulpine, complete with the hyena’s rather rounded snout.

“What happened to us.”  She amended somewhat weakly as her startled eyes flew back to the human woman and Trass finally understood that the silence inside her mind was what it felt like to be _free_.

――ᴖᴗ――

“So, basically, we bound your people to Hearthglen in order to stabilize you.”  The young woman finished somewhat fretfully after her long- and truthfully somewhat boring- explanation.  “We didn’t do it to enslave you, but there was no other way for us to circumvent killing your people as even Edwin’s Elwynn allies are more or less….well, wild animals.  And we just- we just wanted to find a better way somehow but we never meant to enslave anyone against their will!”

“You bound us to Hearthglen.”  Trass said slowly as her vulpine brows knitted together in concentration.  “But instead of using magic, you used the Light?”

“Yes.”  The young woman agreed hesitantly, worrying the skin of her chapped bottom lip rather harshly.

“But you also freed us.”  Trass pointed out just as slowly.  “I can think now.  I have thoughts and I can _choose_ to ignore them.  Before….”  Trass thought harder and tried to find the words to speak.  “Before I was driven by an empty need, one that never felt any better no matter how much I ate or killed.  I can understand that now.  Only power mattered.  But now I can feel- I can _think_.  And all I must do in return for being granted deliverance from my own instincts and the darkness is to serve Highlord Fordring?”

“Well, you don’t _have_ to-“  The young woman rushed to say, though Trass’ attention was mostly fixated at the small trail of blood on the young woman’s lip and how it did not incite a blazing need for battle within Trass’ bones.

How……exciting.  Is this what other sentient beings felt when the instincts of their primal self were overcome by their minds and hearts?

“You are stronger.  You defeated me.  You now rule the clan.”  Trass said simply.  “And yet you would give us a choice.”  Trass teared up a little as she thought of going back to what she had been before now that she had tasted freedom.  “It is so little payment for what we have gained, but my clan will pay it gladly.”

“But what about the others?”  The young woman asked with far more distress than Trass felt warranted for the situation.  “What of their choice?”

Trass shrugged her furry shoulders and she rose to her feet and inspected her body closely.  “You keep what you kill.  That is the way of the Gnolls.”  The Matriarch of the Hearthglen Gnolls gave Hermione a fierce look.  “Our lives are yours to command.  We will honor our debt.”  Trass held up a furry paw to halt the young woman’s bizarre protests.  “We will learn to work.  To fight.  To _live_.  And we will do so gladly as proud servants of Hearthglen and Highlord Fordring.”

“But-“

“You think we would prefer death?”  Trass asked the confusing human somewhat incredulously.  “You have not taken away our will, you have freed it.  Before-“  Trass once again searched for words, but she came up frustratingly short.  “Before we were slaves to our instincts.  Our relentless desire to consume.  And there was something dark and dreadful in our minds.  But now-“  Trass smiled and put her hand over her heart.  “Now there is _Light_.  And with this Light there comes the ability to choose.”  Trass shrugged helplessly and turned towards her new Boss.  “We are yours to command, Highlord Fordring of Hearthglen.”

“Then welcome, sisters and brothers.”  Tirion proclaimed boldly to the gathered Gnolls; the others having been awakened before Hermione had begun her explanation, but were sitting quietly, waiting for their Matriarch’s orders.  “To the Order of the Silver Hand and to the fellowship of the Light!  For if you place your faith in the Light there is no limit to what you can accomplish!  Rise now and take your place in the ranks of those who fight for the wellbeing of all of Azeroth!”

The Gnolls cheered loudly.

“For the Light!”  “For Highlord Fordring!”  “For Hearthglen!”

――ᴖᴗ――

“I don’t think I’ll ever get over how beautiful this place is.”  Neville sighed happily as he and Harry rested on one of the many structural ledges above Lake Elune’ara.  The recently reunited brothers were enjoying the slightly cool perpetual night that the sacred glade was known for while the bright light of the full moon cast its warm, brilliant white light over the druidic haven.

The two brothers- and Remus- were scheduled to begin their roundabout journey to Darnassus fairly soon; hoping against hope that their permissions would not be revoked at the last minute. 

_Again_.

“Me either.”  Harry agreed, lightly bumping shoulders with his brother as they gazed out across the moon-lit, peaceful lake.  “It’s hard to believe that we’ve been here on Azeroth for well over a year now.  I mean, we both turned seventeen not too long ago and Mia’s eighteen.  We were just fifteen when-”  Harry waved a negligent hand towards the sloping, elegant wooden structures that seemed to be an extension of the ancient, proud trees of Moonglade.  “- this happened.”

“Very true.”  Neville agreed absently, lightly dragging his toes through the surface of the lake and lazily observing the ripples his interference caused.  “Of course, Hearthglen and Tyr’s Hand just feel like one big blur of madness now, but securing the Tower felt like it took _forever_.”

“Amen to that.”  Harry retorted with a huff.  “I thought my brains were going to escape through my ears long before we ever managed it, but here we are.”  Harry turned his head and tipped his chin towards the elegant markings on Neville’s cheek.  “Keeper Remulos must have been really impressed with you, though, for him to give you his blessing to commune with the Bear Spirit.  That Stag-jerk guy was really against it.”

Neville grimaced lightly as he reached up to gently trace the forest green markings on the right side of his face.  “Archdruid Staghelm is….an interesting character.”

“He’s a jackass.”  Harry replied flatly.

“Hey, no arguments here.”  Neville defended himself as he turned to look at his brother.  “Did I tell you that my penpal research buddy, Denalan- he’s Daranall’s little brother; you know, the Tailoring supplies guy?- has been trying to get permission for me to travel to Teldrassil since the second week we’ve been here?”

“Oh, really?  I knew you were exchanging letters with him, but I had no idea he’s been trying to get you entrance for this long.”  Harry’s face scrunched up in concentration.  “We’ve been here- well, aside from a few trips home- for nearly four months now.  He’s _still_ trying to get permission?  Even with the Cenarion Circle’s commendation?”

“Yep.”  Neville replied, popping the ‘p’ in an exaggerated manner.  “They even got their cousin Denatharion- he’s a Druid trainer in Dolanaar- involved.  The really ironic part to the saga is that Tyrande Whisperwind- the Night Elf leader- who is known for her raging dislike of outsiders actually signed off on a three week pass for all of us- Remus included- nearly two months ago and it is _Archduid Staghelm_ who threw a fit and started a new argument just to keep us away from Teldrassil that much longer.  Even with our new passes-“  Neville pointed at a bundle of parchment tied together with a strip of green and bearing the seal of Darnassus that was lying on a nearby table.  “- I keep waiting for a runner to show up and inform us that our entry has once again been ‘delayed’.”

Harry snorted derisively and leaned back onto his palms, returning his gaze to the lake.  “I don’t think anyone has ever hated us so thoroughly since _Snape_.”

“Agreed.”  Neville grunted, slapping the sole of his foot down sharply and causing droplets of water to rain down on both their legs as a result.  “I just wish there was something we could do, but even according to Remus the guy just plain hates us and has zero consideration for what we have to say.”

“I’m fairly certain that the Archdruid holds dead grass in a higher regard than us.”  Harry drawled dryly.  “Or even Felwood foliage.”

“Speaking of Felwood, how are you coming along in your training?”  Neville inquired interestedly.  “We haven’t seen each other since dinner at the Tower a few weeks ago and even then we were mostly catching up with the others.   I meant to ask earlier…………but then I got distracted.” 

“S’fine.”  Harry assured his brother, easily waving away the apology.  “I have managed to progress enough that Master Kaerbrus and Pet Trainer Nalesette say I‘m nearly ready to learn how to tame my own pet.”

“How does that work?  Taming a pet?”

“It’s a little bit arcane trickery, a fair amount of skill, and a whole lot of nerve.”  Harry explained with a small grin.  “First you piss off a wild beast- but it has to be a beast that you feel a sort of bond to.”

“Kind of like a familiar?”

“Yeah, sort of.  But part of it comes from knowing the land and being able to read the wilds.”  Harry tried to explain, leaning all the way back and resting his gaze on the beautiful swirls of wood grain on the ceiling.  “It’s sort of like trying to explain Moonfire or Wrath to someone who is not a Druid.  Taming a pet could be considered enslaving them to the unlearned……but that’s just not the way it works.  Gonna be hell to explain it to Mia, though.”

“I can understand that.”  Neville replied agreeably, going back to drawing nonsensical designs in the water with his toes.  “Moonglade is quite hostile to anything arcane related but I can see how difficult it could be for a Mage to understand that Moonfire and Wrath are _not_ arcane spells.  Just like shapeshifting is less ‘taking on the form of animal’ and more ‘using natural energy to alter the Druid’s form into that of a sympathetic beast’.”  Neville groaned and flopped down beside Harry on the floor. 

“It’s not coercion, not really, but I’m not sure how to phrase what I’m trying to say.”

“Empathy, I think is the term we’re looking for.   Equal exchange.  A Druid cannot take the form of an animal they have not connected with on a spiritual level.”  Neville glanced around for a moment before adding quietly.  “There’s a connection with the Emerald Dream and Ysera, too, but I haven’t even come _close_ to that aspect of druidism yet.  It takes ages.”  Neville shrugged lightly and relaxed, returning his voice to a normal, conversational pitch.  “Then again, Night Elves don’t reach majority until three hundred and twenty, so they have a rather skewed view of time.”

“A Hunter cannot tame a pet they do not understand.”  Harry added easily, catching on to the fact that the two would discuss the more sensitive aspects later- mostly likely back home in the Tower.  “It’s why most of my training takes place in the wild instead of just shooting at a target in the city.”  Harry made a disgusted face.  “I’ll tell you one thing, Master Kaerbrus is _thorough_.  The kaldorei- that’s how the Night Elves refer to themselves, in case you somehow missed that little tidbit- as a whole are deeply in tune with nature.  While they do eat meat- on the whole- they have very strong views on not wasting even the tiniest bit of a slain animal.”  Harry shuddered lightly.  “It’s not so bad now, but learning how to skin animals gave me more nightmares than the trolls ever did.”

“I feel for you.”  Neville replied with his own grimace. 

“I have a much better appreciation for Fitz and the Scullery elves, I can tell you that much.”  Harry replied somewhat grimly.  “But it was necessary and it did make me that much more appreciative of nature and the natural balance.”

“Harry, Neville?”  Remus called out from behind them, his footsteps light on the solid wood floor as the man came closer to them.  Apparently it was not truly night yet as Remus had not reverted to his Worgen form, but with the perpetual cloak of evening that enveloped Moonglade it was difficult to tell.  “There’s been a- what in the name of Merlin is _that_?”  The man yelped in alarm.

Startled by the exclamation both teens scrambled up and backed up closer to the newly arrived Remus.

Then the Nighthaven alarms blared and the entire zone burst into motion.

Druids were scurrying about and Keeper Remulos- the massive, stag-like Centaur who was unquestionably the ruler of Moonglade- galloped towards the suddenly agitated waters of Lake Elune’ara, his face grim.

Slowly the churning waters parted to reveal a massive two-headed dog.

Directly in front of the Karazhan occupants.

“Potter Luck.”  Harry sighed resignedly as Neville gave him a pointed, exasperated glance. 

Glaring red eyed full of madness swept over the trio of Karazhan residents, the wickedly spiked bands of metal that adorned the colossal beast reflected dully in the gentle light of the moon.  Smaller dogs nearly identical to the hulking beast began to scurry out of the waters and towards the assembling druids, but the original beast’s eyes remained fixed on the Karazhan residents.

“Of _course_ the thing can stand on the surface of the waters.  Even with them churning violently  Why the bloody hell not?”  Neville muttered petulantly.

“That’s enough commentary from the peanut gallery.”  Remus informed the teens sternly as he stepped forward and took a fighting stance.

Keeper Remulos’ antlered head swung around and his eyes came to rest on Remus.

Remus who was seemingly having a staring contest with the two-headed dog, neither of them moving but both hyper-focused and expectantly waiting for the most miniscule movements to signal the commencement of hostilities.

“We will keep the smaller dogs at bay while Lupin deals with Omen.”  Keeper Remulos decreed firmly to the assembled druids, his tone booking no argument.

Immediately the druids began to attack the smaller dogs, but Harry and Neville remained just behind Remus.

“Boys provide cover fire for me.”  Remus growled lowly as fur, talons and paws replaced skin, the mad two-headed dog watching intently while poisonous green droll leaked out of its gaping mouths.

“We’ve got your back, Moony.”  Harry whispered, afraid to speak too loudly and disturb the fragile moment.

Suddenly Remus leapt forward towards the beast, his staff aimed at its yawning maw.

Confused at the situation but calm, Harry grabbed his faithful bow and began to fire arrows at the massive beast; his intense training paying dividends as he was able to land many more hits based on his own skill, allowing the magic in the bow to spend more energy in imbuing the arrows with magic.

Thankfully, not the arcane magic of Azerothian Hunters.  That would make this situation turn uglier very quickly.  Earthern magic such as a Runic stinging hex or a Runic confundus spell or a myriad of others based on his intent.

Neville, meanwhile, was tossing out Moonfire and Wrath spells as efficiently as possible while ensuring his spells wouldn’t hit Remus by accident.  It was rather difficult, really, but being in Moonglade meant his Moonfire was incredibly powerful.

At the heart of the fight Remus was using every scrap of information or training at his disposal to hammer away at the beast.  Paladin spells, Earth magic, weapon’s training, even a few lighter arcane spells- all of it blended together endlessly as he danced around hits or area of effect effects or forced the mad beast back into a prime position or Harry and Neville’s attacks.

Even in his Worgen form he was tiring, though.  The hits the beast had scored sizzled nauseatingly as potent toxins began to creep through his veins but Remus pressed forward, encouraged by a song of battle inside his heart that spoke to him of _freedom_.

Eventually Remus managed to use a few of Harry’s arrows to scale the beast and the man unleashed a Paladin spell at the exact same moment he brought the metal-capped end of his staff down on a vulnerable spot on the beast’s back.  Remus was rather sickened by the smell of decaying, rotting energy that spewed forth, but his faithful staff and the spell struck true, obliterating the heart of the thing.

With one last might roar the beast lurched- tossing Remus off its back as the man lost his grip on his staff- launching Remus into the air and into Neville, who tried to break the man’s fall at the point of impact.

――ᴖᴗ――

When Remus came to he nearly screamed as Neville’s face was only a few inches away from his own.

“Oh, good.  You’re awake!”  Neville informed the man far too cheerfully to simply be relieved.  “You want the good news or the bad news?”

“Wha-huh?”  Remus answered elegantly.

Then there was a deep, rumbling chuckle.

Remus glanced beyond Neville to see a massive fox-like dog made of green energy sitting calmly on the surface of Lake Elune’ara.

Seeing that it had Remus’ attention, the translucent figure gave Remus a canine-inspired grin, flashing a bit of fang as it did so.  “Thank you, friend.”  The being rumbled, its voice somehow echoing through the very lands.  “For cleansing my body so I might travel on to the Dream in peace.”  Wisps of green began to break away from the figure as it grew more transparent.  “ _Andu-falah-dor_!”

Then the figure winked out of existence in a shower of vibrant green sparks.

“What in the name of the Light just happened?”  Remus asked plaintively.

――ᴖᴗ――

“My grandmother’s favor follows you, Remus, son of Lupin.”  Keeper Remulos informed the trio gravely a few hours later.

“I’m sorry?”  Remus inquired cautiously, exhausted from helping remove the fel energies left behind by the corpse of the two-headed dog and its minions.

“Omen was once a great Guardian of Azeroth, Blessed by Elune herself.”  Keeper Remulos informed them wistfully.  “Fierce and clever he guided the ancient hunters.  When the Burning Legion invaded Omen allied with Azeroth’s defenders, but the wounds he sustained from many battles eventually corrupted him.”  Remulos waved his arm towards the serene waters of Lake Eluna’ara.  “Eventually he was struck down here in Moonglade and his body was laid to rest in the sacred waters of the Lake.  However, he still carried the Blessing of Elune and thus was unable to pass on peacefully to the Dream.  Occasionally- particularly during the Lunar Festival- he would awaken rom his slumber and would need to be battled back into slumber.”

The leaf-green eyes of the centaur were contemplative as he glanced over the Karazhan resident.  The ancient gaze was heavy and knowing but Remus refused to look away.

Keeper Remulos smiled faintly, nodding his antlered head lightly.

“However now Elune’s mighty Blessing has been transferred to you, Remus of Lupin.”  The centaur continued evenly.  “And at long last Omen has peacefully passed on to join my father and grandfather inside the Emerald Dream.”

“What do you mean?”  Remus asked confusedly, sharing worried glances with Harry and Neville before he turned back to Keeper Remulos.

The centaur shook his massive head and turned away from them, towards the gathered fel energies that the other druids were attempting to cleanse.  “That is not for me to answer.  Travel to Darnassus and speak with High Priestess Whisperwind.”

“Wait-“  Remus called out, meaning to follow after the Keeper but Flight Master Silva Fil'naveth, a pale blue skinned, white haired druid, stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

“I am to send you and your companions to Darnassus immediately.”  She informed the trio shortly, beckoning them to follow her.

“I mean no offense, Flight Master, but I was under the impression that you only allowed druids to borrow your hippogryphs?”  Harry asked her, puzzled.

Half the reason they were still stuck in Nighthaven was because the Flight Master had utterly refused to fly them to Darnassus! 

Being as the arcane was loathed by the residents of Moonglade, making a Portal was out.  Even if the Karazhan group were to travel to nearby Felwood and _then_ opened a Portal to Darnassus, it would do their reputation with the Night Elves more harm than good, as their ties to the arcane was Fandral Staghelm’s favorite argument against their being allowed to visit Teldrassil.

_“Do you really wish to court disaster?”  Staghelm was known to argue.  “Do you not remember that it was our Highborne kin who brought the Burning Legion to Azeroth?  Do you not remember that Nordrassil lie in ruin and our immortality lost due to the greed of arcane practitioners?  The powers of the arcane are poison to this world, to our people!  And you wish to bring these outsiders here and teach them our ways?!”_

The plan had been to travel through Timbermaw Hold- they had been laboriously building up their regard with the Timbermaw furbolgs the past few months; Harry especially- into Felwood.  Once there they would then follow the roads to Darkshore in order to take the boat in Auberdine to Rut’theran Village, which was at the base of Teldrassil and connected to Darnassus by way of a transporter.

Flying would definitely be faster, but it was still annoying that after all their hard work and the many, many delays the very first option had become suddenly available.

“May the stars guide you.”  Flight Master Silva said to them once she had them situated on the back of her feathery friends.

“And you, Flight Master.”  They all replied politely despite their varying levels of annoyance.

Flight Master Silva gave the hippogryphs a firm command and then they were off, slipping swiftly into the air and leaving Moonglade behind.

――ᴖᴗ――

The thing about hippogryphs that were rented from Flight Masters was that they were trained to compensate for having unexperienced riders.

“I hate heights, but this is amazing!”  Neville called out over the screaming of the winds as the blue-green and red feathered bird-beasts traversed  the open sea.

“I love flying but, yeah, this is beyond brilliant!”  Harry called back, lifting his arms and enjoying the winds that buffeted his body with every powerful beat of the hippogryphs mighty wings.

“We totally have to get Mia on one of these guys someday!  No matter how much cajoling it takes!”  Neville called back excitedly, causing Remus and Harry to laugh at loud.

――ᴖᴗ――

Hermione sat on the wide-brimmed, red-and-white stone ledge at the highest point of the Hearthglen Mage Tower, idly swinging her feet as she munched on the sandwich that Trass had made her.

The Gnoll Matriarch had taken quite the shine to cooking and thoroughly enjoyed making sure Hearthglen’s people ate well.  All of the Gnolls had taken some time to try new and different things, but they had slowly branched out into areas that interested them.  Some enjoyed patrolling Hearthglen’s borders, other loved working in the mines, and yet others had taken up studying the ways of the Light, but nearly every single one of them had profusely thanked Hermione and her kin for ‘freeing’ them.

Hermione still wasn’t overly comfortable with what they had done, but as the Gnolls seemed to truly be happy- and more Gnolls arrived every week to join the Hearthglen contingent- Hermione tried her best to not fuss over it.

Not like her best friends would let her brood, anyways.

Leaning against the inside of the outer rim of the tower to the young Mage’s right was the ever neatly fitted, dark clad, and noiseless Brighteyes. 

For once the woman’s face mask was pulled down a bit so Hermione could see the white crisscrossed lines of precise scars that littered her bone-pale skin.  The woman’s bright indigo eyes were utterly captivating, but Hermione knew just how much Brighteyes _despised_ it when people stared at her rather uniquely colored eyes.  Looking at them too long was liable to get one’s gut or neck introduced to one of Brighteyes’ wickedly sharp, poisoned daggers.

Propped up beside Hermione on the ledge, leaning back-to-back with Brighteyes, was the ever-cheerful Finnall Goldensword. 

Taller than Hermione by at least a full head, the half-elven woman was quite beautiful.  Fina’s bright crimson hair was tied back in a tail that showed off her slightly elongated, pointed ears while her wispy bangs neatly framed her bright green eyes.  Blessed with an aristocratic, finely-boned facial structure and a well-muscled, but lithe frame, Fina was quite the sight to behold in her well-fitted, Dalaran-violet colored armor.  Fina’s twin short swords were currently at the smithy, but even without her favored weapons the woman was unquestionably dangerous.

Hermione _loved_ her friends.

Brighteyes had just shown up one day and Hermione’s friendship with the woman had been built across a number of random encounters.  With Finnall- who greatly preferred Fina- Hermione had needed to be patient with the cheerful, but highly cautious woman.

Though once Hermione had gotten to know the woman, she could certainly understand _why_ Fina was so guarded.  As a half-elf, Fina was no stranger to adversity. 

The woman had a will carved out of stone and a spine built with pure titanium that Hermione greatly admired, actually.

Even after the surviving High Elves of Dalaran had refused to follow a ‘half-breed’ and the humans had not believed her claim that Daelin Proudmoore was her father- Fina was the result of an affair the man had with her highly respected, High Elf Dalaran Mage mother- Fina had refused to leave the Eastern Kingdoms to the Scourge.  Or go with her human father to Kalmidor and launch an attack against the newly founded Durotar settlements of the Horde, near Jaina Proudmoore’s Theramore Isle.

The once great High Elven kingdom of Quel’Thalas sat at the extreme northern tip of the Eastern Kingdoms and it had been decimated during the Third War.  As a native of Dalaran, Fina felt more loyalty towards the areas hardest hit by the plague than her mother’s ancestral homeland and had rounded up a group of like-minded fighters to her cause.

However, sometimes will and guts wasn’t quite enough and Fina’s outpost had come under heavy attack by the Scourge.  The woman had been prepared to make her final stand when a small group of Silver Hand forces had arrived, Taelan among them.  Together, the combined forces had pushed the Scourge back, but Fina’s small group had sustained heavy injuries. 

Taelan had managed to convince the stubborn, proud woman to return to Hearthglen with him so her people could receive better aid.  Fina had been quite surprised- but pleased- that a Portal had been opened to Hearthglen and they had barely gotten the last of the wounded- and dead- through to Hearthglen before an even larger group of Scourge had attacked.

After seeing the care her people received- and Tirion not giving one whit about her parentage and judging her solely on her own accomplishments and values- Fina and her group had decided to merge into the Silver Hand.

Tirion had been both exasperated and pleased by Fina’s determined refusal to take ‘no’ for an answer and welcomed her and her compatriots into the Silver Hand with good grace. 

(Tirion’s rather exasperated objections stemmed more from the Brotherhood of the Light’s Champion Dawnbringer- Eli was his preferred moniker, actually- and High-Champion George’s- his nickname was Chaser as Uther the Lightbringer had once remarked that the younger Paladin was ‘like a Lordaeron tracking hound’ when George had a mission on his mind- continued attempts for Tirion to agree to a merger between the Dawn- of which the Brotherhood was a subdivision- and the Silver Hand.)

Even with Fina’s inclusion into the Silver Hand and her regular presence in Hearthglen, it had still taken Hermione a month of stubbornly seeking the woman out and drawing her into conversation- mostly about magic or Dalaran or ways to fight the Scourge- to get Fina to accept her as an honest friend.

It had been totally worth the effort, though! 

Even better, Brighteyes and Fina got on like a house on fire!  They were actually a bit scary together, truth be told, but Hermione was simply thrilled to have _two_ brilliant friends- outside of the other Karazhan residents, but that was her family now; they really didn’t count the same anymore- and having the good fortune of them getting along splendidly!

Even better- Fina was teaching her Thalassian, the language of the High Elves! 

It had so much potential as a wardbase!  Hermione was greatly enjoying using Thalassian script in Earth warding schemes in her experiments!  It was all very exciting for the young Mage!

Of course, after hearing about how _stupidly_ _arrogant_ some of Fina’s High Elven kin could be, Hermione had broken out her grandmother’s secret guilty pleasure- the languages of Tolkien.  The man had been a philologist by profession, and Fina and Brighteyes both found the idea of speaking a fictional elvish language both exciting and hilarious.

_“I just want to be next to one of those super race purist assholes at some point and watch the looks on their faces when I start speaking in a fictional language.”  Fina managed to force out through her giggles.  “It would be_ so _worth it!  They pride themselves on their knowledge, so it would really twist their perfect little ears to not know a beautiful, flowing language that a half-elf and a couple of humans know!”_

Brighteyes nudged Hermione lightly and the young woman turned to look at her quiet friend.  “What?”  She asked cheekily, polishing off her sandwich with a flourish and snatching up her bottle of sun tea.

The woman pointed down and Hermione’s eyes tracked the motion to the form of Taelan returning through the main gate of Hearthglen.

“Oh!”  He’s back already!  I wasn’t expecting him until Friday!”  Hermione nearly squealed with a bright grin as she recapped her bottle and set it aside.  “And don’t give me that look, missy!  I’m-“  Hermione paused and did some mental math.  “-I’m officially eighteen!”

Fina scoffed pointedly and lightly kicked Hermione’s swinging ankles.  “ _Baby_.”  She said with a grin.

Brighteyes nodded emphatically.

Hermione pouted. “But he’s so sweet.  And kind.  And _handsome_.”  She grinned at Fina and lightly bumped shoulders with her.  “I mean have you _seen_ his biceps?  They’re spectacular.”

Brighteyes huffed, well she breathed a little heavier than normal and both Fina and Hermione looked over at the other woman.  “Vanessa.”  They said in unison, causing Brighteyes to roll her eyes and poke Hermione in the cheek.

_`Technically I’m married.`_   Brighteyes reminded them rather haughtily, signing her words efficiently as always.  ` _What’s your story?`_

“Contraceptive spells.  They exist for a reason.”  Hermione trilled cheerfully as she hopped up and back over to solid ground.  “Now that he’s back, the both of you are going to help me _plot_.”

“You want your best friends to help you plot how to get _Taelan_ _Fordring_ into bed with you?”  Fina snarked cheekily as she did a graceful flip and landed lightly on her feet.  “You certainly are ambitious, Mia dear.”

Brighteyes nodded serenely and her fingers twitched lightly as she said something along the same lines.

Hermione rolled her eyes quite expressively.  “That man has a will of _adamantium_ but I am a grown woman- mostly _, shut up_ , _Fina!_ \- and I have womanly needs.”  Hermione crossed her arms and pouted prettily.  “So help me?  Please?”

Fina whooped with delight and slung an arm over Hermione’s shoulders while Brighteyes shook her head and smiled.

“You guys are the best!”  Hermione cheered as they began the trip back down inside the Mage Tower itself.  “Onward, to victory~!”

“You are so weird.”  Fina informed her friend fondly.  “So freaking weird.”

“I try.”

“Yeah, well, you’re good at it.”

“Thank you!”

“I’m not entirely sure it was a compliment.”

――ᴖᴗ――

Sylvanas Windrunner sat in her office in the Royal Quarter of the Undercity and tried to plot out her next course of action.

Tirion Fordring’s return to arms had been a welcome bit of news to the Banshee Queen.  Archibald- one of her more trusted runners- had brought back news of Hearthglen’s liberation from those Crusade fanatics.  At first Sylvanas had been worried at the news- the last thing the Forsaken needed was yet another enemy- but when Archibald had informed her that Mardenholde Keep was once again under Tirion Fordring’s control she had nearly felt like smiling.

She hadn’t, but it had been the most positive bout of emotion she had experienced since her death.

Knowing that Tirion held a personal vendetta against the Crusade- Archibald had heard the story of Taelan Fordring and the fate of the High Inquisitor before he had traveled back to report in to her- had convinced her to stay her hand and allow the Argent Dawn and Silver Hand forces to occupy the Monastery without issue. 

The move had proven to be a prudent one.  Especially in regards to her curiosity of Tirion’s strange magi allies.

Not only was Tirion as honorable as ever- releasing the Forsaken prisoners to return to her- the Forsaken who had gone to the Monastery in the hopes of being allowed to study the ways of the Light had been welcomed.

Not wholeheartedly- there was a lot of animosity between the living and the undead- but the officers had been fair and balanced in their treatment of her people.  Something that was quite the step up from the utter revulsion or aggression that most of the Forsaken had experienced since the end of the War.

Varimathras had thrown quite the tantrum about her decision to allow the Dawn a foothold in Forsaken territory, but now she was glad that she had not given in to the demon’s badgering.

Not a week ago Sylvanas had traveled to Orgrimmar and confirmed the Forsaken’s alliance with the Horde.  During that excursion she had met with Thrall and he had given her the strange magi’s answer.

At first she had been furious, deeply offended and bitter at the need for the Forsaken to beg for aid, but then Thrall had given her a gift from the strange Order of mages that had allied themselves with Tirion.

_“What?”  Sylvanas snapped at the Warchief, furious beyond measure at being denied.  “They dare make demands of the Forsaken?!”_

_“They merely stated their terms, Sylvanas.”  Thrall replied calmly, pushing the plainly-wrapped box towards her.  “It is a token of goodwill.”_

_After examining it thoroughly Sylvanas shrugged and opened the box.  “A bracer?”  She asked contemptuously, pushing the object back towards Thrall angrily while glaring ferociously.  “I have no need for trinkets, Warchief.”_

_Thrall merely shook his head and explained.  “It is not just a pretty bracer, Sylvanas.  According to Tirion’s allies it will provide aid in keeping the Lich King from your mind.”_

_Behind her, one of her Dark Rangers sucked in a sharp breath._

_“How?”  Sylvanas demanded, suddenly much more interested in the trinket, though also wary.  Her undeath had made her especially paranoid._

_“I know not the details, Sylvanas, but according to what I was told it enhances the wearer’s natural mental resilience to external attacks.”  Thrall explained patiently.   “The magi theorized that since you were able to break free of the Lich King’s control the bracer might enhance your defenses- or at least help you differentiate between your own thoughts and attempts of an outside source to worm their way into your mind.”_

_Sylvanas had contemplated the pros and cons of the thing for nearly a full day, having shut it back inside the box and shoved it into her pack.  In the end, though, she had decided to have Anya test it while she, Cyndia and Amora observed.  Sylvanas chose to perform he test in her guest quarters in Orgrimmar before returning to Undercity, as if the bracer did as it was promised she wanted to keep it a secret.  Even with her place as the Banshee Queen there were very few that Sylvanas trusted, and her Dark Rangers were at the very top of the list._

_Anya had easily fitted the silvery cuff on her pale arm and nearly immediately afterwards she had dropped to one knee, breathing heavily._

_“Anya?”  Sylvanas asked cautiously, fingering her bow while the other two readied their weapons as well._

_“I am fine.”  Anya breathed out wonderingly, looking up at Sylvanas with wide eyes.  “I am alright, milady.”_

_But Sylvanas wasn’t really listening._

_“Cyndia, Amora look at her eyes!”_

_“My eyes?”  Anya repeated confusedly, rising to her feet and frowning at her lady._

_“Anya.”  Sylvanas breathed wondrously, setting aside her weapon and walking closer to her long-time friend.  “Anya your eyes aren’t scarlet any longer.”  The Banshee Queen turned her friend around to face the mirror that Amora had uncovered- they had covered it up when they came in as mirrors were unpleasant reminders of what they had become._

_“Purple?”  Anya said pensively as she walked closer and examined the color curiously.  “No, more of a deeper purple than that.”_

_“Pure arcane energy is generally some shade of blue.”  Cyndia offered as they crowded around the younger Dark Ranger.  “And our eyes glow scarlet in our undeath, so perhaps Anya’s new eye color is a side-effect of the two energies mixing?”_

_“It’s not just the color.”  Anya said, still gazing incredulously at her changed appearance.  “My thoughts are actually quiet.  I mean, I can still hear the whispers a little, but it is- easier?- to tell my thoughts from the chaos of undeath.”_

_Cyndi and Amora had both tried on the cuff and both results were the same- purple eyes and quiet thoughts, so Sylvanas had decided to wear the gift_. 

Even now Sylvanas was awed at how much easier it was to think without the constant cacophony of noise that she had grown accustomed to since her impure return to life.  Only Varimathras had tried to question her and she had easily shut down his line of inquiry, everyone else had easily bought her announcement of having made a breakthrough in combating the Lich King’s control even further.

Because keeping her own will was still a daily battle.  Even with the Lich King gone his will lingered in the back of her mind and she had to remain ever vigilant in keeping her will her own.  Her Dark Rangers were invaluable as their support greatly assisted her in battling for control but if Sylvanas slipped and the Lich King regained control of her and her former Banshees- now her Dark Rangers- then the rest of the Forsaken would be all but defenseless.

Sylvanas was unsure if her unique situation was due to her heritage as a high elf, her age, her battle experience, or just simply something Arthas had done when the _wretch_ had denied her clean death, but she was keenly aware that she was the lynchpin, the foundation of the Forsaken.

She also refused to be swayed and used again.  She was Sylvanas Windrunner, former Ranger-General of Quel’Thelas  and she was beholden to no one, certainly not a traitorous princeling who destroyed his own kingdom.

Tapping her fingers on the desk she once again thought of the strange magi and their insistence that Varimathras was only pretending to serve her for his own agenda- as opposed to merely being a coward. 

Would the assistance of these magi be worth cutting Varimathras loose?  Or were these magi simply trying to string her along until she rid Azeroth of the demon?

Could she, in good conscience, _not_ pursue a relationship with these magi when they seemed to be both willing and able to ease her people’s suffering?

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞―≡―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―◊―――

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for all the world-building, but it's kind of important!
> 
> Oh, the Gnolls are not exactly like House Elves. The Gnolls cannot teleport, for one. Having purpose does ground them, though.
> 
> I don’t want to get too technical on the timeframe for this period of the story but the original Hearthglen liberation was in the early part of the year and by the end of the chapter we are on the cusp of winter. Like, November- so the Karazhan group have been on Azeroth about eighteen months at this point.


	8. Alphas's Roar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: 
> 
> Just to help with some mental geography- because it can be sort of confusing- there are two zones named ‘Plaguelands’. 
> 
> Western Plaguelands holds Hearthglen, Scholomance- it’s a little island-fortress thingy- and the tug-of-war town of Androhal. It doesn’t appear to be nearly as decimated as the Eastern Plaguelands- but make no mistake, the Plague has left its mark on these lands and its inhabitants.
> 
> Eastern Plaguelands is nearly uninhabitable and the main battlefront between the Scourge and Azeroth’s defenders. To the extreme north of Eastern Plaguelands is Stratholme- an embattled city tucked up against the mountains that divide the zones of Eastern Plaguelands and the Ghostlands- the Blood Elf secondary zone. Just to the south- down- from Stratholme is Plaguewood- a subzone, (not to be confused with the Plaguelands!!). To the east- and a bit further south- of Plaguewood is Light’s Hope Chapel. Tyr’s Hand is further east of the Chapel and its furthermost edge runs along The Forbidding Sea. The Chapel and Tyr’s Hand have some decent protection in the clusters of mountainous hills that border them- part of the reason why they are so defensible.
> 
> So, a little background, even if it is sort of spoiler-y for this chapter.
> 
> From around the end of the Third War to the pre-launch of Wrath of the Lich King the Lich King was rather MIA. Arthas had gone to Frozen Throne in Northrend and fused with Ner’zhul (Ner’Zhul had been transformed into the ‘original’ Lich King and sent to Azeroth by his displeased master, Archimonde); as a result the LK lay dormant for several years while the fragments of Ner’zhul, Arthas, and the remnants Arthas’ humanity battled it out for supremacy.
> 
> (That was a bit streamlined, but it’s the basic gist.)
> 
> Naxxramas- the floating necropolis; aka floating citadels where the lieutenants of the LK direct the ground troops- was released in Patch 1.11, just ahead of the first expansion. It was considered to be the ‘hardest’ dungeon in the game at the time of its release. 
> 
> Originally a 40-man raid- and we’re talking about 40 well geared level 60 players- even after the release of BC it still took around 25-30 decently geared level 70 players to clear. In Wrath of the Lich King it made a comeback as level 80 content- though not all of the bosses returned- and its location was moved from the Eastern Plaguelands to Northrend.
> 
> In the game, original Naxx is still sort of there- mostly for quests and such- but that’s about it, all the content was moved to the Northrend incarnation.
> 
> Ergo, Naxxramas pulled up stakes and booked it to Northrend after Kel’Thuzad got his lichy butt kicked. 
> 
> The reason why the dungeon makes sense in terms of lore is because Kel’Thuzad had a phylactery, (think horcrux), that was recovered by adventurers and turned into the Argent Dawn. 
> 
> Thanks to some betrayal and treason he was able to be revived in the Northrend version. 
> 
> Now, Naxxramas isn’t the only floating necropolis at the LK’s disposal. There are several others, but the most relevant one for the moment is Acherus: the Ebon Hold. 
> 
> Since DKs were not able to be played until Wrath, I am using some creative wiggle room to say that it won’t show up until the LK is ready to make his comeback. 
> 
> Ergo, at the moment, the main concern- in terms of breaking the hold of the Scourge in the Eastern Plaguelands- is Naxxramas.
> 
> Thus, the Scourge going with the ‘overwhelming numbers/destroy everything’ motto. As a lich, Kel’Thuzad is only so powerful and I imagine maintaining control over too many DKs is beyond him.
> 
> The Plague also makes the landscape and wildlife hostile which adds another layer of uncertainty to the Dawn-Hand forces as they have to bring in food from outside sources. Caravans have to be closely guarded- hello weak link, have a Scourge swarm!- and Tirion only has so many men to spread around.
> 
> Tirion is well aware of the fact that they have to drive the Scourge’s leadership from the continent before they can even consider laying siege to Icecrown in Northrend, which is the ‘root’ of the problem.  
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 “After months of reconnaissance we have found a way into Naxxramas.”  Tirion’s voice was grey despite the happy news.  “We will be sending in four teams via portals- that have been engineered by our allies, the Order of the Phoenix- led by the four of you to take out the leadership within Naxxramas.  Meanwhile, I will be leading a distraction force against the Scourge-held outposts leading to Stratholme.”

Inside one of three specially warded rooms inside Mardenholde Keep, Highlord Tirion Fording was laying down his risky battle plan.  The room was littered with scrolls, maps, and other such things and the people gathered inside were some of his most trusted.

Lord Sirius Black.  Lord Maxwell Tyrosus.  Duke Nicholas Zverenhoff.  Darion Mograine.   

Tirion met each person’s trouble gaze firmly before he sat down and sighed heavily.  “Naxxramas- as most of you are aware- is the backbone of the Scourge.  Inside the floating citadel the Lich King’s lieutenants direct the forces of the Scourge against us, and so long as it remains Stratholme will never be ours, not even if we were to route the Crusade’s holdouts in the living side of Stratholme.”

“Not to mention.”  Sirius added grimly into the weighty silence in the wake of Tirion’s assessment.  “That the Scourge’s numbers are added to by the Cult of the Dammed; living persons who work inside Naxxramas or the undead-held section of Stratholme.  They not only create more Scourge footsoldiers and shock troops- mindless undead and ghouls, respectively- but they also create monstrous abominations while attempting to create new and disgusting weapons to be used against Azeroth.”

“Like the newer incarnations of the Plague.”  One of the other men said with a scowl.

“Yeah.”  Sirius sighed sadly, running a hand through his hair in agitation.  They had lost nearly thirty men just last week to a new strain of the Plague, one that had been introduced into a previously-thought ‘safe’ water source.  The new strain was more potent than the ones they had grown used to dealing with and by the time anyone had noticed the anomalies in the water- the Plaguelands really had no truly ‘clean’ water- it had been too late for the poor sods that had been on that particular patrol route.  “Like that.”

“For the past several months, Sirius and a select group of scouts under his command have been doing reconnaissance in both Stratholme and Naxxramas.”  Tirion continued swiftly, scowling down at the latest map of the northern section of the Eastern Plaguelands sternly before persistenting.  “While finding our own path into Naxxramas would have taken longer, Sirius has been able to secure an entrance for us.”

“What’s to stop the bastards from swarming us?”  Lord Maxwell Tyrosus asked Tirion in his rough, hoarse voice. 

An old injury to his neck had permanently damaged the man’s vocal chords at a young age and as a result nearly everything he came out rougher than most would call ‘normal’.  The tall- even sitting down the man was taller than Tirion standing up!- auburn haired man had an eyepatch over his right eye, but his remaining dark brown eye was sharp; a testament to the keen intellect and excellent instincts that had carried the aged veteran through two devastating wars.

“Magic, Tyrant.”  Tirion replied calmly, gesturing at Sirius.  “Mirage magic that Sirius and his kin have modified for our purposes.”

“Oh?”  Duke Nicholas Zverenhoff said interestedly, leaning forward in his chair a bit so he could get a better look at Sirius.  “I though magic of that caliber had been lost with Dalaran’s fall!”

Duke Nicholas- _“just call me Nicky!”_ \- had been an archivist for King Teranas up until the King’s death and he had lost his entire family to the Plague shortly thereafter.  He was resilient, though, and had took up arms to fight against the tide of undeath that had swept through the ruined lands of Lordaeron.  A naturally upbeat person- so long as it wasn’t early morning- he had never truly left behind his love of the written word or chronicling new things for future generations.

Needless to mention, he and Hermione got along positively _famously_.

“It’s….kind of complicated and technical, actually.”  Sirius replied rather sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck in embarrassment as he tried to find the correct words.  “It works by…well, you have to set up anchors- usually against walls- and then that area is encased in a sort of ‘bubble’.  The …er, ‘magic bubble’ keeps the sounds of battle from escaping while those outside see whatever it is they _expect_ to see.”  Sirius grimaced lightly and leaned back in his chair, tipping it back on two legs while he stared up at the ceiling in thought.  “It’s not perfect.  If a new arrival comes in the bubbles sort of warps- but it will only stretch so far before it breaks.  Technically it would overload one of the anchors and the entire scheme would fail.  That’s not the only problem either; while our forces will be hidden from sight, if Random New Guy runs into a combatant- or trips over a piece of debris- the bubble’s effects are cancelled out.” 

“So, a useful tool but not an infallible one.”  Tyrant mused aloud.

Sirius let his chair resettle on all fours and nodded at the man.  “Basically.  We’re still working on the weaknesses of the Mirage Phasers, but it’s a work in progress.”

“Still, they are better than nothing!”  Nicky interjected cheerfully.  “We’ll just have to be careful and make note of the patrols.”  The man paused and shot a cheeky grin at Tirion before adding.  “And put our faith in the Light!”

“Indeed.”  Tirion agreed firmly.  “This endeavor will be precarious despite all of our preparations, but we will have to have faith that the Light will see us through to the end.”

“How are we going to set up these ‘anchors’?”  Darion Mograine- the youngest of the assembled- sneered irascibly.  “What _good_ are they if our enemies send up the alarm before we can entrap them?  Is this truly the extent of your magic or is that simply all you wish to share with the Argent Dawn, _Ambassador_ _Black_.”

Tirion repressed the urge to sigh and sent a silent plea to the Light for patience.  The Paladin was grateful to note that Sirius was keeping his temper under control, despite the perceived insult. 

Darion was the last remaining Mograine- and the spitting image of his father with his late mother’s light blond hair and blue eyes- but the lad had unquestionably inherited the infamous Mograine temper. 

Alexandros Mograine had been a Knight of the Silver Hand, and the man Tirion known had been both honorable and courageous.  Sometime after Tirion’s banishment rumors had surfaced alleging that Alexandros had been the founder of the Scarlet Crusade. 

After everything that had occurred over the past year, Darion had come to Tirion seeking answers. 

Well, the agitated lad had come charging into Hearthglen, loudly proclaiming that he would exact vengeance upon Taelan for killing Renault- Darion’s elder brother; it had just been the two boys and their father.  However, despite all the evidence presented by the Dawn-Hand leadership, Darion refused to believe that his father’s organization had become the corrupted thing that it was.

Tirion knew that he was taking a great risk in sending Darion on this mission but it was really his only option to force Darion to admit the truth.  

The elder Paladin had been informed of Alexandros’ position as one of Kel’thuzad’s Four Horsemen and- based on the evidence gathered by the scouts- Tirion predicted that the sword the undead Scourge possessed was none other than a corrupted version of Alexandros’ beloved Ashbringer.  If anything could convince Darion of Renault’s treachery it would be seeing his father’s undead form wielding such a befouled blade in the service of Lordaeron’s most reviled traitor.

Or so Tirion hoped.

Until that time, however, they all had to put up with an angry, disruptive, hateful young man who felt that his father’s good name had been besmirched by ‘outcasts, murderers, and thieves’.

“I am certain that Sirius and his kin have done their utmost to help us prepare for this venture.”  Tirion replied calmly, but with all the command his tenure as Highlord afforded him.  “As to the _how_ , that ties in with our next topic.”

“Right.  So that’s me.”  Sirius interjected with bright cheer, rubbing his hands together before retrieving some bundled parchments from his carry-on and passing them around.  “You’ll notice that your names are on each report- except Tirion’s, because that’s the master copy- but the reason for that is because we are going to hit all four main areas of Naxxramas simultaneously.”

“Each of your contingents will have a scout who has been trained in how to operate the Mirage Phasers.”  Tirion picked up smoothly as Sirius wrestled out a new map- one of Naxxramas’ inner workings- onto the table.  “Tyrant, you and yours will be taking the Abomination Wing.”  Tirion tapped a section of the map before moving on.  “Nicky, you and yours have the Spider Wing.”

“Oooh!  I wonder if the threads will be useful!”  Nicky chirped brightly, not at all bothered by the thought of necromantic spiders.  “Spider silk tends to be lightweight and very receptive to enchantment!”

“Our Quartermaster has gear for you, and Sirius’ kin have cooked up some surprises to help with the culling of the spiders as well.”  Tirion commented dryly.  “I’m certain we’ll be hearing the results all the way over here.”

“By the Light, this is going to be exciting!”  Nicky all but crowed while Sirius shot the man a wide grin and a ‘thumbs up’.  Off to the side, Darion scowled darkly and began to mutter uncomplimentary things about everyone involved.

Light help him, he was surrounded by either angst-ridden brats or enthusiastic explosives junkies.

Tirion and Tyrant shared a commiserating glance.

“Sirius and his team will be handling the Plague Quarter of the necropolis.”  Tirion continued firmly, quelling the noise and refocusing everyone.  “After all the Wings have been cleared all teams will regroup at the entry point.”

“The scouts will have the signals.”  Sirius supplied easily.  “Also, we don’t want to leave materials for the Scourge to somehow reclaim, so each wing will be sanitized once everything that is usable has been squirreled away.”

“So, magical fire?”  Nicky ventured with a disturbing grin.

Sirius’ smirk was unholy.  The jaunty tune he and Nicky began whistling was just downright eerie, though Sirius did add.  “Unfortunately, we can’t use the really potent explosives or fire, as the stupid thing needs to stay in the sky for our strike team to have a prayer of getting out without being crushed under a zillion zombies.”

“Once the all the wings have been cleared.”  Tirion pushed forward doggedly.  “Everyone will fall under the command of Tyrant.”  Tirion glared frostily at Darion, who had begun to protest.  “ _This is not negotiable_.”

Darion subsided.

Very, very reluctantly.

‘ _Light give me patience.’_   Tirion thought rather wearily.  ‘ _Because if you grant me strength right now I’m not sure it would end well_.’

“Tyrant will lead the charge into the encounter with Sapphiron, a gigantic undead dragon.”  Tirion waited for Sirius to lay down a new map before continuing.  “It is after that encounter that you may progress to engage Kel’Thuzad himself.”  Tirion sighed heavily and glanced at each man in turn.  “Make no mistake, my friends, I am sending you to fight one of the Lich King’s mightiest abominations.  According to our intel, Kel’Thuzad might well have made a phylactery.”

Tyrant and Nicky hissed, as though stung, while Sirius’ countenance grew stormy.

“Phylactery?”  Darion ventured after warring with himself for a moment.

Most like over whether his curiosity was worth more than his spite, no doubt.

“A vile container that allows a lich to be revived through profane means.”  Tirion informed him firmly, his eyes blazing with righteous fury.  “You must search for it, and if found it _must_ be taken to Light’s Hope Chapel.  Only a potent ritual, grounded steadfastly in the Light and performed on holy ground, can permanently destroy such a foul thing.”  Tirion’s eyes slid closed and he took a few deep, cleansing breaths.  Once he was once again calm, he opened his eyes, unclenched his fists, and continued.  “A phylactery will shatter a weapon and survive even most magical fires.  Terrible things happen to those who attempt to destroy one when not on holy ground.  If one truly exists, it must be taken to Light’s Hope, for all our sakes.”

“Why wouldn’t he just hide it somewhere?”  Darion challenged pigheadedly.  “Why keep it so close to him?”

“Naxxramas is considered unbreachable, brat.”  Tyrant informed the young Mograine shortly.  “As you well know.”  The man gave Darion a hard, unyielding glare until the younger man finally dropped his gaze to the table.  “By the lich’s logic, there would be no safer place than the necropolis.”  Tyrant snorted inelegantly and contemptuously.  “And it isn’t as if the Scourge are known for their altruism or their bonds of brotherhood.  To keep his phylactery anywhere not under his direct control would be beyond foolish.”

“Understood, _sir_.”  Darion replied stiffly.

“Well, that’s that!”  Sirius exclaimed brightly.  “Now all we need to do is read up, divvy up our men from the list Tirion drew up, gather our supplies, and prepare for war!”

This time, Tirion did give in to the urge to sigh.

At least Tyrant did as well, he consoled himself.

Tirion withdrew a list from his carry-on and unrolled it before he continued.  “Each strike team will have no more than ten- and that’s including yourselves.”

“The Portals we’re using are a bit…delicate.”  Sirius interjected, over Darion’s protests.  “They will take us directly in to our respective wings, or at least the corridor leading up to them.  But they can only be loaded with so much magic, and ten people- moving very swiftly- can safely make it through.”

“Partly due to the fact that the Portals’ opening will also trigger a small Mirage Phaser, to help conceal your entrance.”  Tirion added firmly. 

“-see why we’re even dealing with-“  Darion was ranting, red-faced and half-risen from his seat.

“Mograine.”  Tyrant thundered dangerously, bring a heavy fist down on the wooden table with a decisive _thump_.  “Be still or _get out_.  This assault might well break the Scourge’s leadership and be the first step in reclaiming the Plaguelands and I will not allow an impertinent brat to undermine our efforts!”  Tyrant’s voice softened just a tad as he continued.  “I know you’ve lost nearly everything, Darion; just as I know that you truly do not believe that the Argent Dawn and the reformed Silver Hand are acting with honor.  Yet despite your refusal to read the writing on the wall, Highlord Fordring is still entrusting you with a vital role in this operation.  Are you so blinded by arrogance that you will not fight at all, boy?”

Darion had finally snapped his mouth shut when he took in the glares he was receiving from everyone else, but Tyrant’s speech caused him to subside. 

Eventually. 

A muscle twitched in the young man’s jaw and Tirion could nearly hear the lad’s teeth grind, but he nodded stiffly and sat down.

‘ _With all the clearly telegraphed outrage of a spoiled noble at the beggar’s table._ ’ Tirion considered rather wryly, nodding lightly at Tyrant before continuing.  “This means you will each choose a scout from the first list of names and then eight more members from the second.  Choose wisely, my friends, and steel your hearts, for this will not be an easy victory.  But with the Light, there is no limit to what we can accomplish!”

―――ᴖᴗ―――

“Welp, did everyone make it through will all their bits attached?”  Sirius asked quietly as he prodded the Mirage Phaser they were inside experimentally, pleased when it seemed to be in perfect working order.

“Yeh can say that, lad.”  Conall Irongrip muttered as the dark-skinned dwarf helped up his lighter-skinned cousin, Brady Ironcrock.

Their names reminded Sirius of muggle rock stars that Lily used to natter on about.  Their thick brogue really didn’t help his mischievous brain much, either.  Both cousins had braided beards- auburn and white, respectively- studded with Dwarven claps, and both men stubbornly maintained that they had ‘long hair’ despite the stubborn shininess of their hairline above the earline.

“May de Spirits be with us, mon.”  Kul’de, a purple skinned troll with a shock of vivid blue hair whispered lowly as he took in the full scope of what they were up against. 

Sirius fleetingly wondered how the man ate anything with those wicked looking tusks protruding from his mouth.

“Looks like the Mirage Phasers are holding steady, Captain.”  Julie Osworth- their scout- reported rather blandly.  “T-minus twelve minutes to commence the assault.”

The brown haired, brown-eyed woman did dry humor better than Sirius had ever met, and he’d been raised a _Black_. 

_In bloody England._

Fala Swifthoof, a lovely Tauren lady with long brown braids and a fascinating gold nose ring, shuffled lightly as she whispered quiet chants underneath her breath.  Beside her, Relga- their green skinned, bright hazel eyed Orc- hefted her monstrous, wickedly spiked axe into a ready position while she eyed their enemies with contempt.

Sirius mentally giggled.  Like Fala truly needed to add any force behind that massive hammer of hers, Sirius thought wryly, rolling his shoulder reflexively as sympathetic pain coursed through him.  He’d accidentally cut off a link of one of her braids in a training session a few weeks back and the aftermath had _not_ been pretty.

And if Relga’s hazel eyes got any brighter they might well catch fire, he thought rather giddily.

Sirius took a few, deep breaths.  Now was _not_ the time to let the stress eat away at his calm.

To his left and just behind, the team’s two Night Elves, Amarante- a lovely lady with lavender colored skin and a bright white ponytail- and Manados- the Elf Harry had met back in Hearthglen all those months ago- were murmuring quietly with their team’s sole Highborne member, Fael Morningsong- who was pale and blond and prettier than most women Sirius knew; wicked fast with those daggers of his, though- mostly likely plotting. 

Sirius had put those three in charge of trying to neutralize the Plague cauldrons while the rest of them dealt with the Cult of the Dammed members and their pet ooze monsters, so they were welcome to some on-site strategizing.

“T-minus four minutes.”  Julie announced, slightly louder than before, causing them all to form up and draw their weapons.

The room they were assaulting had a pitched floor, more stairs than strictly necessary, two levels of fun, and enough Plague to undeath them all at least eight times over.  Not to mention the cheerful corners full of fetid, rotting meat, various congealed or slimy substances coating the walls, the oozes that were leaking radioactive fluids, and the symphony of screams from the experiment subjects.

‘ _Perfect place for a holiday_.’  Sirius thought sarcastically, absently wishing his armor were loose enough that he could fan his shirt a little.  He was already sweating like a sow in summer, and they’d just gotten here!

Despite being up the sky, the air inside Naxxramas seemed to be even thicker than the air on the ground.  The Plaguelands were already notorious for the noxious, nearly syrupy air that seemed to mock a person when they tried to breathe.  But their confined quarter of the necropolis was somehow even worse than usual Plaguelands fare.  Sirius spared a moment to send up thanks that all the Team Oozes Suck members were wearing enchanted veils- not unlike the type that could be used to breathe underwater- and therefore were not actually breathing in the squalid filth of the room. 

_‘As much as we could have been, at least.’_   Sirius mentally amended.

Then, Julie nodded sharply at him, he drew his sword, and the assault began.

Steel clashed, spells flared, and blood splattered through the soupy air, while furious shrieks echoed throughout the barrier.  But the Mirage Phaser’s boundaries held fast despite the cultists hurried efforts, and Sirius’ team immediately got down to business.

Sirius and Julie darted forward quickly as soon as the patrols were clear.  The Mirage anchors went on the walls, just like they had practiced all week, and the barrier snapped over them just as the original barrier collapsed.

The first casualties of the team barely had time to do more than gurgle before they were cut down, but with heavy hitters like Relga, Fala, the dwarf nutters, and Kul’de it was to be expected.

Their Elves shot forward, felling the cultists who had been nearest to the edge of the barrier after some nominal struggling, before concentrating their organized efforts on the Plague caldrons that were bubbling ominously.

That left Sirius and Julie to watch out for patrols and to try to help the others combat the oozes.

Scourge oozes were regenerative, sneaky little buggers and their ability to go _splat_ and then reform- usually into something even bigger and more difficult to take down- had been a major concern during the planning of the assault.

However, Sirius was forever a prankster at heart and it was in that sense that they had had a breakthrough.

_“The oozes are comprised of a substance that is more akin to molasses than water, but they still need a certain amount of a single- conglomeration?- to remain so they can reform.”  Their Cenarion circle-Earthen Ring allies had explained, once they had analyzed the samples Sirius had brought back to Tyr’s Hand.  “If enough of the ooze is destroyed or neutralized, then it loses its ability to function rationally and just turns into a pasty mess.  The issue is dealing with their replication, absorption, and reformation abilities until then.”_

…..

_“Hmm.”  Hermione mused aloud from her place at one of the Karazhan Library’s quiet study nooks, when he had asked her about combating slimy terrors.  “I know I had an Aunt- well, she was a cousin or something, but I called her Aunt Faye- anyways, she always used plain old salt on normal slugs.  Even if she never saw the slug itself, she broke out he salt at the mere idea of slug trails.”  Hermione shrugged lightly and glanced back at Sirius.  “Without knowing more details that’s all I can really tell you.”  She paused a moment, her brows furrowing together before she added, kindly.  “Though I would imagine that something which rapidly absorbs moisture- like a paper towel- could be modified somehow?”  She shook her head again, loose brown curls bouncing around her frustrated expression.  “Though if it is something that is sticky- or tacky, I suppose- you’d need to wet the paper towel slightly before using it, otherwise it might just bog down.”_

‘Ooze Busters’ wasn’t the most creative name imaginable, but Sirius liked it and so that’s what he was calling them.

_Forever_.

‘Them’ being refined spheres of sandstone, chunks of specially woven fabrics with tightly knit packs of salt, and tightly braided cords of candle wick that had been bound with an Everlast Rune matrix, covering nearly the entire outside of the thing. 

The Ooze Busters were only about the size of a Snitch, but they had been made to unfurl from a central point once exposed to water- preferably on the underside.  Once fully opened they would cover about the same space as the average towel and the team could direct the oozes- or huck bits of ooze grossness- onto them.  When they reached full capacity Sirius was supposed to hit it with a deliberately overpowered _Petrificus Totalis_.

After that they would pray that the stupid things would be held in stasis until they could get the hell out, by which Sirius meant they would undo the Rune bindings on the wicks- which had been soaked in the most flammable potions they could find that burned exceedingly quickly- light the fires and get the bloody hell out.

Already several of them had joined together, towering over the dwarven cousins while five smaller conglomerations tried to box in their other fighters.

_‘And this is only the first of nine sections to the big bad ooze.’_  Sirius thought grimly.  After a quick back step that kept his head attached, he slashed through a cultist-directed humanish shield- half the body was covered in Plague and the rest seemed to be in the late stages of decay- and managed to push a Crusader’s Strike through the gap between two of the necromancer’s ribs.

_‘At least most of these cultists are only wearing cloth and some safety gear.’_   Sirius mused with forced cheer as he parried and spun an enchanted blade into an ooze that had been sneaking up from behind, stunning it and allowing Sirius to get inside his latest target’s personal space.  Sirius had to skip back a bit- blatantly ignoring the idiot’s spiel- to avoid a spell, but the woman’s stance was atrocious.  In no time at all Sirius had jammed the tip of his blade into the woman’s exposed upper thigh and sever the artery.

Granted he had had to go through some muscle and bone, but it made her collapse in pain and he’d finished her off with a precise strike to the base of the skull.

Without pause Sirius vaulted backwards, up and over the ooze- _‘Fabulous.  It grew.  And gained even bigger friends.’_ \- and skidded to a wobbly stop inside the corner the Conall and Brady had been backed into before Sirius had come charging in.

“Captain!”  Julie called out concernedly from further to the right.  She had made her way towards the opposite corner- damn close to the corridor, he hoped they were watching out for patrols- to back up Fala, Kul’de, and Relga.

“I’m fine!”  Sirius hollered back at his scout, snapping his wand into his hand and letting loose with a powerful _Diluvium Aquarum_ (Flood of Water) spell, effectively soaking their little patch of paradise and pooling slightly near the flexible edges of the Mirage.  In less than a second his wand was back in its holster and Sirius had deftly tossed his Ooze Buster into the largest pool of water nearest to him.  “Conall, Brady, towards me!”

“Aye, Cap’n!”  One of them called back and soon enough the two large oozes- who had gotten larger- were being pushed back towards his potions thanks to the cousins’ excellent teamwork.

Sirius set about corralling his own oozes towards the unfurling trap, praying like hell that the trap would be ready by the time they reached it.  His oozes were vicious, but seemed less inclined to become on gigantic conglomeration.  Despite the enchanted veil, their slime breath was still nauseating and if his helmet had been any less sturdy it would have melted under the acidic pressure.

‘Thank the Light- or Merlin, whoever- that Tirion insisted on waiting a week for all of our gear to be acid-treated.’  Sirius thought thankfully as a bit of his arm’s armor gave out and he hissed as a burning spot of acid made its way to his flesh.  “ _Gah_!  Acid on me!”

Proving than she was far more than just a pretty face, Amarante took only the slightest bit of time to dispel his spot of trouble.  Sirius could feel the light layer of protection left behind as his mind cleared- ooze acid hurt like _bloody fucking hell_ \- and he could only grin in savage satisfaction that his team really was the Best.  Team.  Ever.  “We’ve got this, guys!  Push these bastards back!”

“Yes, sir!”

It was a close call and Amarante had needed to her multi-person dispels a few times, but they managed to work all of the oozes into the constructs and seal them.

At least, temporarily.

“Shit.”  Sirius cursed, knowing that they hadn’t taken more than ten minutes, but the patrols were already dangerously close.  The team had regrouped near the edge of the barrier, directly in the path of the incoming patrols.  “We don’t have time to stop and rest a bit.”  The man glanced around and ran through a series of plans before deciding on one.  “Alright guys, I’m going to put a spell on the wall-“  Sirius pointed to the load bearing wall to their backs.  “- that will hopefully keep the bastards upstairs from seeing us, I’ll be using the same spell on the patrols when they get close enough.  Julie, it’ll be a stretch but we’re going to slip around section two and hit four and five at the same time.”

Julie’s lips pressed together in a grim line, but she nodded tightly.

Sirius grinned at his team with all the cocky confidence he could muster.  “We’ll have to clear out those two sections before the patrols come back around here, but now that we’ve been through this song and dance, it’ll be no sweat.”

“Ey, dat’s de spirit, mon!”  Kul’de drawled with a toothy grin, his staff slung over his broad shoulders with an easy grace.  “Lead on.  We got your back, boss mon.”

Life in Azeroth had made wand motions life-and-death matters, and Sirius’ _Confundus_ spells left his wand in rapid-fire succession.  “Let’s go, Julie!”

“I’ve got your six, Captain!”

―ᴖᴗ―

Sirius’ team made it to the upper level before they ran into a major FUBAR situation.

“Captain!  We’ve lost contain- _agh_!”  Julie’s voice cut off, fading into a wet gurgle as she was hit in the back.

“Lad, if they push us back to the stairs, they’ll be able to raise the alarm!”  One of his dwarves called.

“ _Gol'kosh_!”  Relga bellowed, covering the heavily wounded Fael.  “We are being flanked!”

Sirius took stock of his gathered, wounded team and felt a rush of determination.  ‘ _I won’t let them die here!_ ’  “Everyone, to the first floor, drag them down here!”  He bellowed as he grabbed Julie’s convulsing body, vaulted over the steep dividing wall, and cast his most powerful shield on the entrance.

Quickly his team relocated, but it was worse than he’d thought.

And they had managed to alert both lieutenants as well as Mr Big Bad Ooze himself. 

‘ _Perfect_.’  Sirius cursed to himself, noting that Julie, Fael, and Brady were down.  Amarante would need to focus on them, so she would need to stand back and tend the wounded.  ‘But, i _f we can keep everyone alive for a few minutes she should be able to split her attention between them and us, and Amarante is damn good at healing spells.’_   Sirius thought as their enemy decided that now was the time to gloat.

‘ _Bloody fucking_ _pillocks_.’  Sirius nearly snarled inside the sanctity of his mind as all the able-bodied fighters circled the wagons around their injured.  “Alright, guys.”  Sirius said as best he could without moving his lips.  “This is what we’re gonna do.  Manados, Relga you two take the Plaguebringer.  Fala, Conall you take Mr I Need Several Hundred Showers.  Kul’de, you and I are against Mr Big Bad Ooze.”  Sirius surreptitiously slipped his last Ooze Buster to his Troll companion before pulling out his last Mirage Phaser anchors- due to some shitty luck, he only had one left.  “Amarante, I’m going to use our last anchor to confuse the idiots upstairs.  Take care of our wounded.”  Sirius took a deep breath before he firmed his stance and tightened his grip on his sword.  “On three.”

“One.”

_‘I don’t want us to die here.’_

“Two.”

_‘I have to make it back home.  Gran will be furious if I miss Sunday’s dinner.’_

…..

_‘I don’t need much, just a little help to keep my team alive until we take these bastards down.  We’re good for it!  You know we are!  So….please, please help me.  Whoever might be listening, please help me bring my team through this!’_

――◊――

Deep inside Sirius Black, a great wolf roars with bestial fury.

Power.  Ancient, primal, and so very, very potent courses through the veins of Goldrinn’s chosen Champion, as the Ancient’s Blessing descends upon Sirius Black in full.

Where there was once an Irish Wolfhound- made of innocence and ferocity and a desperate desire to be loved by someone, anyone who would find him worthy- now resides a proud white wolf.  Fully mature, aged; yet playful and full of energy, the wolf curls up contentedly inside the soul of a man who has outgrown the puppy he once was.

Goldrinn’s roar quickens his mind, hardens his resolve, and steels his fleshy body.

**_Go now_** **!**   He growls into the depths of Sirius Black being.  **_Go now and show them the fury of the Wild!  Show them the righteous devastation of an Alpha with a Pack to Protect!_**

――◊――

“One.”

Sirius’ roaring battle cry shook the defiled walls of the necropolis.  It was a blending of two voices- a man and a beast- deeper, rougher, and louder than any sound that should erupt from a human’s throat.

It lingered, like a cloak, even after Sirius had rushed forward and engaged his foes; foes who had been so certain and smug in their certainty of victory not a heartbeat before.

Now they cowered, ears ruptured and resolve shattered by the might of a man who refused to back down; who refused to _submit_.

The silver of Sirius’ blade nearly glowed as he danced, dodged, and herded his target towards its downfall.  The remaining cultists and oozes attempted to thwart him, but with Kul’de at his side and the sounds of his fighters ringing out above the noise of battle, Sirius was unstoppable. 

Limbs that had been weary and wounds that had stung and pulled painfully not moments before now were unworthy of his notice as he pushed forward with calm certainty of his victory.

“By deh Spirits, boss mon!  Where yah been hidin’ your fight, mon?”  Kul’de shouted once they had pinned down the Big Bad Ooze and began picking off the cultist stragglers.  “Dese guys best be watchin’ dah Shadows for you!”

“Aye, laddie.  First round is on meh!”  Conall whooped with delight from across the way.  “Lookat ‘im go!”

It wasn’t a conscious decision on his part, but something inside Sirius screamed out in warning and he just _moved_.

The next thing he knew he was standing in front of the very surprised Plaguebringer, his sword having shattered the fiend’s frozen heart.  Sirius had somehow intercepted the man mid-Blink- which was like a mini-Teleport decently talented Mages could person every so often- and before the man could recover Fala’s hammer came down with unforgiving vengeance.

“ _Hammer of Retribution_!”  She called out defiantly as the undead corpse half-liquefied under the onslaught of Holy Light, before sliding off Sirius’ sword with a wet _plop_.

“We need to do something about dose tunnels, boss mon!”  Kul’de called out from above, where he and Relga were keeping the oozes at bay.  “Dey be wakin’ up a bit earlier dan planned.”

Across the way, the other lieutenant had been soundly defeated and was now little more than paste on the wall.

And floor.  And perhaps part of the ceiling.

“Amarante, how are our wounded?”  Sirius barked out commandingly.

“Well enough to move, Captain!”

Sirius nodded shortly to himself.  “All right, then.  We got the Plague samples and there is nothing in this wing I want to hazard taking out other than that.”  Sirius grimaced as he looked around at the mounds of flesh and bone that had once most likely been innocent civilians.  ‘ _Children_.’ He corrected darkly as the empty eye socket of the half-rotted skull of a child glared accusingly up at him nearby one of the Plague caldrons.  “There are certainly no survivors for us to rescue.”  Sirius tossed a few suspiciously nondescript, flat disks to the separated members of the team.  “Plant those on the walls, preferably somewhere with a lot of fuel.  You’ll need to snap them along the perforated edge before you plant them, but be careful!”

“Things tha’ go _boom_ are my favorite kind!”  Collan cheered as he began to go around and plant the chargers while whistling a jaunty tune.

The others were far more careful.

Once everyone had gathered- the ooze corralling team were the last- Sirius pulled them all outside the wing, tossed in the primer, and slapped the Gnome-Goblin engineered blast door up.

At the front, the other able bodied members of the team were fighting with stragglers, but every moment that passed without an explosion Sirius’ heart slithered a little further towards his knees.

Just as he was about to take down the door and do things the old fashioned way- they were being pinned down against the damn door anyways, due to space issues- an ear-shattering _boom_ went off just beyond the door.  Nearly instantly a wave of Light crashed through the crowded hallway, a wave of intense heat venting through in its wake.

Sirius had just barely managed to get a shield up- one Aurors used to guard against friendly fire; one that he hadn’t actually _used_ in about a decade and a half- that unfortunately shielded a little too well in the case of their nearest attackers, but the other ghouls and mindless zombies weren’t so lucky.

_‘Light infusion magical bomb, success.’_ Sirius thought rather cheerfully, as his team made quick work of the remaining- mostly injured- attackers.  ‘ _If we can make a Light-only version we might be able to use it against the swarms of mindless undead in the open areas!  Especially as it doesn’t work against Slyvanas’ Forsaken guys, so we won’t be endangering our allies!  Well, it’s still a bomb so we’d have to be careful, but still….’_

Julie, bandaged and stubbornly back on her feet, stealthily slipped around the corner and set off their ‘all-clear’ flare.  “Looks like Captain Nicky’s team is clear as well, but no smoke from Captain Tyrant’s team or….Mograine’s team.”

“No title for the ruddy lad?”  Collan snarked insolently, earning him a sharp glare and a threatening flash of Julie’s dagger.

“Calm down, kids, I’m sure the brat is fine.” Sirius proclaimed cheerfully.  “But we need to move towards the center to regroup.”  Sirius shuddered theatrically.  “Mostly because listening to those oozes pop from the heat is disgusting and sooner or later the smell is going to start seeping through.”

“I vote we move.”  Julie replied dryly.  “Might I even suggest we do so with haste?”

“You’re a bloody comedian.”  Sirius informed the woman primly, sticking his nose in the air and stalking off down the hall.

“I try, sir.”

“Don’t quit your day job, Osworth.”

“Babysitting?”  Julie called out blandly to Sirius’ offended back.

Sirius inelegantly slipped and nearly faceplanted on the black iron of the necropolis.

Kul’de was kind enough to haul him to his feet. 

“You’re my favorite, you know.”  Sirius told his Troll team member brightly.

“I don’ need tah be ah Troll to know you be tellin’ tall tales, boss mon.”  Kul’de drawled, highly amused.  “Ain’t be needin’ guidance from dah Spirits eithah.”

“Brats.  _All_ of you.”  Sirius declared imperiously.

“Pay up Black!”  Was the sound that greeted them at the rendezvous point.  “My team won!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”  Sirius grumbled good naturedly as the two teams fluidly formed a perimeter, with their walking wounded in the middle.  “My explosion was cooler, though.”

“Blasphemy!  Lies!  _Trickery_!”  Nicky gasped out in comedic, faux-offended horror, hand over his heart.  “Shame upon my good name!”

Then Tyrant’s team was accounted for and all was right with the world.

For about three minutes.

―ᴖᴗ―

“Captains!”  A wet voice screamed out from near the Death Knight wing.  “Capta-erk.”

But the Captains were already moving, leaving a security detail behind to guard the wounded while everyone else ran towards the cry for help.

They found two of Darion’s team members near the insertion point, one desperately trying to pour healing magic into his comrade’s injury-ridden body.

Two others immediately rushed forward to help while the original healer stepped back enough to report.

“It’s madness in there.”  The little grey haired, grey-mustached Gnome informed them grimly as he began to attend to his own weeping wounds.

_‘Cleric Alphus, pretty much the most powerful, well-versed Cleric in Hearthglen.’_ Sirius noted to himself. 

“We were doing fine until we reached the Four Horsemen.”  Alphus continued with a grimace as he prodded his side gingerly.

All the Captains winced.

“Yeah.”  He sighed heavily, wincing as some of his injuries twinged painfully when he twisted to look at his shoulder wound.  “Captain Darion did fine until he picked up his father’s sword- we fought the Highlord first, he attacked us- but then……”  Alphus hesitated for a moment; glancing over towards his comrade and then back to the Captains before continuing.  “He moved to attack us, but then his father’s spirit came out of the blade and talked him down.  We managed to take out the other Horsemen with Lieutenant Myner’s direction- and most of the other Death Knights were pretty simple to subdue without their ‘Masters’.”

“Subdue?”  Tyrant asked, voice cautious.

“Leonid noticed that once the instructors were taken out and the Horsemen distracted the remaining Death Knights grew confused.”  Alphus continued, seemingly conflicted with the situation himself.  “He requested that we contain them until after we deal with Kel’Thuzad, to see if perhaps they can break free of the Lich King’s control, like Slyvanas and her Forsaken.”

“Hm.”  Tyrant sighed.

“I’ll double tap them with magic, if you’d like.”  Sirius offered, antsy to get inside and help.  “But if they really can break free of the Lich King’s control, would it be honorable for us to abandon them?”

That remark hit home, as all of Tirion Fordring’s men were well aware of the Highlord’s standards concerning honor and morality.

“Well, that settles it then!”  Nicky piped up cheerfully.  “So, what should we expect on the inside, Alphie?”

The little Gnome rolled his eyes and grinned at his friend.  “It gets better.”

Sirius did not _like_ the sound of that.

“Once Darion’s father talked some sense into him- not three minutes ago- and the blade began to lighten, that mage that he- Darion, you know- likes to run around with put his hands on it!”  Alphus nearly snarled.  “That brat has been working for that Varimathras, apparently, and the demon is using the idiot to taint the Ashbringer even more!  With Ashbringer feeding on corrupted magic, the spirit of Alexandros disappeared and Darion started to attack _us_!”

“What?!”  Tyrant nearly bellowed, hefting his sword and eyeing the doorway.

“Calm down, old man!”  Alphus snapped irritably.  “By the Light!  Myner is attempting to get information out of the traitor by fighting Darion.  The brat might be decent enough with a blade, but he has nowhere near enough skill to wield Ashbringer!  We just need you here as reinforcements because the traitor mentioned Kel’Thuzad being on his way.”

“He’s supposed to be past the room with the dragon.”  Sirius felt the need to point out, more than _done_ with this entire excursion.  “The final wing isn’t supposed to be accessible without the Horsemen’s sigils.”

Alphus shrugged.  “Probably easier to open the door from the inside, would be my guess.  At any rate, Myner and Lisande are a magnificent team, so they sent us out here- Nevell is our scout, so we needed him to know if you guys were out here or not.” 

“Probably why they went after me.”  The man coughed out weakly.

“He will live, Captains.”  One of the healers informed them briskly.  “But he should be moved back with the other wounded.”

“Make it so.”  Tyrant ordered before turning back to Alphus.  “We haven’t been able to gather an excessive amount of information about Kel’Thuzad as a lich, so hopefully….”

It was right about then that they heard someone scream for help and they all charged in after Alphus.

When they arrived, Sirius immediately went around casting _Petrificus Totalis_ and _Stupefy_ on the bound Death Knights- he was surprised that there was only four of them left- before he turned to face the music.

“That.”  Sirius stated clearly, in a highly unimpressed manner.  “Is the worst case of an oversized tourist trinket I’ve ever seen.”

The bone…... _thing’s_ red, hellfire eyes zeroed in on Sirius.

Off to the side, Darion and the traitor mage were subdued and dragged towards the wall.

“Hahahaha!”  It laughed nastily.  The sounds were far from actual humor.  The grating- like bone on bone or nails down a chalkboard- echoes sent shivers down most of the fighters’ spines, but Sirius just arched an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“How can you be a proper villain with such a weak villain-y laugh?”  Sirius wondered aloud, entirely irreverently.

“Your curiosity will be the death of you.”  The lich snarled maliciously, raising its ornate staff and brining it down against the floor in a resounding crash.

Then the little bastard invited minions to the party.  And had disappeared.

_Wonderful_.

“I really hate these guys.”  Sirius groaned as he bounded forward and brandished his sword loftily.  “I shall smite thee- hey look at me you jackasses!”

Off to the side, Julie and Nick’s scout gave Sirius a thumbs up, just as the confused, baffled minions began to attack.

Sirius smirked an raised his wand in his offhand-

_Boom_.

“You are one ballsy brat.”  Tyrant grunted after they had quickly finished off the remaining minions.  “I can’t _believe_ that worked.”

“Well, the Light has a soft spot for heroes and fools, right?”  Sirius added cheerfully as Kel’Thuzad shimmered back into existence, positively furious.

Sirius was also resolutely ignoring Tyrants uncomplimentary mutters.

Eh, if it’s stupid and it works- it isn’t stupid.

“I see the trap worked.”  Sirius noted as Kel’Thuzad began to fire off spells and the teams surged forward.

The Horsemen had been on a little raised dais with a wall to their backs, which was where Kel’Thuzad had made his grand appearance.  Sirius had been playing distraction while one of Tyrant’s people- Sirius smelled Edwin’s sneakery; so they were most likely Defias-trained- slinked around and laid the Phase trap anchor to the wall. 

Unlike the Mirage Phasers, this incarnation created a solid magical barrier.  It wasn’t very sneaky- unless one had high powered spells flying around- but it prevented anyone inside from leaving without shattering it wholesale.

Seeing as all four anchor points were holding fast and Kel’Thuzad was plenty busy fending off attacks while trying to keep away from the sea of Light spells that were boxing him in, Sirius felt cautiously optimistic. 

The only anchor the lich could reach without difficulty- or going through a sea of Holy Light- was directly behind him, so if they could keep the lich there on the dais, blocked in by the decorative railings, it would make things easier.  Granted, the lich might turn around and shatter the anchor directly behind him, but that would-  A) have him exposing his back to all of his attackers; and B) require him to realize that the flashy, sparkly Runes near where Julia and her fellow scout set off two single units of Light-magic explosive disks were decoys.

That the decoys were being ‘defended’ only made the ruse seem more authentic, and the Light mingled freely with the explosive magic residue, creating a minefield for the lich.

Sirius stayed in his position, calling out jeers and encouragement as needed while Tyrant led the others in wailing on the lich.  Even though Kel’Thuzad was mostly bone and gold accessories, one could see the fury and frustration in the lich’s eyeflames as his attempts to conjure minions or flee were continually thwarted.

The barrier was weakening slightly, but not near enough that Sirius was actually worried.  Without access to minions the lich was stuck making people sort-of explode with some sort of curse- it seem to mostly affect Mana users- and then some other curses that Alphus and his buddy- Sirius honestly had no idea who the man was- kept purifying, keeping the fighters largely curse-free.

There were plenty of frost attacks that hurt, but Tyrant was an expert at dancing and Alphus was a damn miracle worker.  Everyone else was just gravy on the biscuit, or however that old expression went.

His father always said something about hair on a Kneazle, but Sirius had never liked the turn of phrase, even as a child.

_‘Those shadowy attacks would hurt a lot more if there wasn’t so much Holy Light in the room.  And Tyrant.  And Alphus.  Actually, everyone here is bloody indispensable.’_   Sirius thought rather smugly.

Really, without minions to come to his aid or a way to flee- the lich kept shimmering our of phase for a few seconds at a time, but he always came back after the barrier repelled him- the fight was sort of boring. 

Not really easy or simple, just boring by the grace of good planning and deck-stacking.

Sirius would take it.

With a final roar of rage- and rush of necromantic magic- and a poof of frost, the lich seemingly burst into nothingness.

“We-“

“Captain Sirius.”  Tyrant panted as he swiped at a wound and glared at the grinning Sirius.

“Yes, Commander?”  Sirius asked attentively.

“Cra- behind you!”

Sirius was already moving before Tyrant called out, but the blast of dark energy still took him to his knees.

Sirius panted as the dark energy of the room seemed to ratchet up to nearly unbearable levels, making his blood feel sluggish in his veins and his heartbeat strangely staccato inside his chest.  Through his darkening vision he noticed that only Alphus, Tyrant, Nicky, and a few others he couldn’t make out were still standing, encased inside a shield being powered by Alphus himself.

But Sirius couldn’t really focus, the shadows of the room were churning threateningly and inside his head were screams and memories he thought he had left behind him-

\---- _people liked to believe that the guards or the Ministry controlled the Dementors, but everyone in High Security in Azkaban knew differently.  The Dementors were the pitiless, cruel, hungry dictators of the prison who only loosely followed the wishes of the humans who ‘controlled’ them._

_The reason why the death counts weren’t higher was due to the Dementors having centuries to practice keeping their prey on the brink of death without allowing them to escape into the blessed oblivion of death._

_They liked to come before and after their one daily delivery of food and water._

_Or what passed for food and water in that wretched place._

_Sirius was certain that the demented wretches took perverse pleasure in being the herald for sustenance as well as another round of torture._

_Looked forward to as a precious rare constant that heralded to what passed for hope in Azkaban._

_But food did not keep in Azkaban, the Dementors presence rotted it unnaturally fast- not like they had freshly picked veggies, anyways- and they fouled the water with their miasma._

_So a prisoner had to force down their measly rations through hoarse throats and into their woefully empty, yet roiling stomachs._

_Then the Dementors returned, especially hungry and vicious as the prisoners screamed in renewed anguish._

_Take, take.  Give.  Take, take, take._

**[Snap out it!  You’re not alone anymore!  You have family, friends, and subordinates who need you!  Who depend on you!  Don’t let-]**

_\-----  James’ lifeless eyes.  Peter’s triumphant laugh._

_Harry’s screams._

_Reggie._

_Reggie before Gryffindor.  Reggie his shy little brother-_

_“Stand down, Death Eater scum!”_

_“Hello, brother.”_

_“Just….go.  Merlin, Reggie, you’re my little brother!  Don’t do this!”_

_“James Potter is your brother!”_

_“He might be my brother, but you’re still my little brother!  Just go….go, Reggie.  And make up your own mind.”_

_…_

_“I’m sorry Sirius, but Arcturus is declaring him dead.”_

_Rattling.  Like a death gurgle.  The rasping breaths of the Dementors always seemed to echo extra loudly whenever he remembered his greatest failures._

**[-let this upstart fiend win!  Fight, Black!  Fight for your pride!  Fight for your honor!  Fight for your soul!  Don’t-]**

_\---- Should have killed Snape, just shouldn’t have risked Remus.  Andy had told him how Snape had helped Lucius, the Lestranges, Avery and other Death Eaters catch Reggie by himself._

_“They drugged him Sirius.  They-“  Andy’s face crumpled with grief as she threw herself back into his chest.  “They did…terrible things to him.  Laughed at his pain and shame, while they taunted him about his Gryffindor brother.  And when he went home and told your father, Orion told Walburga and Walburga sent those despicable brutes care packages.”  Andy’s fists banged against Sirius’ chest.  “She thanked them that…that- worthless shrew!  And Reggie- oh, Reggie.”_

**[-give in!  Alpha!  Rise and defend!  Protect!  Per-]**

_\---- Little Bella helping Sirius draw on the Drawing Room’s walls._

_Walburga had cursed him, but as the Heir he was protected from the Cruciatus._

_Bella was not the Heir._

_She was also female._

_Little Bella’s shrieks of agony, her quiet sobbing after an extra minute for being a ‘unsightly mess’.  Her wide violet eyes looking for help._

_Sirius running from the room in frightened shame._

_Across from him, present Bella cackles and sings to herself in a babyish voice, proclaiming her Master’s greatness.  His promises.  His love for her._

_You’ve never saved anyone, Sirius Black.  Your existence is a curse.  A joke.  A cruel irony._

_You wear red well, Gryffindor._

**[-severe!  Move forward!  Do SOMETHIN- FINALLY!  IT’S ABOUT TIME, BRAT!]**

Sirius’ eyes snapped open.  His eyes were clouded by blood, his throat was raw and his body was awash with pain but there was a fire inside his soul that had no time for such things.

Sword in hand, the dark bindings that had been holding him captive fell away like oil skimming water.  Sirius knew that others were in the room, but all he had eyes for was the winged, horned nathrezim standing above the body of Tyrant, with only Alphus’ tiny, defiant form between the demon and his fallen friend.

The shadows of the room were still churning, they still held a thousand failures, and a million nightmares best left forgotten, but Sirius didn’t have time to reminisce on his shortcomings and faults.

Sword out, aura flaring, Sirius roared and met his haughty foe head-on.

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞―≡―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―◊―――

“Welcome to Darnassus.  High Priestess Whisperwind is expecting you, travelers.”

After travelling through the bright pink transporter thingy- Harry honestly had no idea how the thing worked without arcane magic- at the base of the massive tree, they were met by a squadron of badass, fully armored contingent of female Night Elves.

Who were also all armed to the teeth.

“Is it just me or do they look less than enthused to see us?”  Harry muttered softly out of the corner of his mouth to Neville.  “…and are those weapons extra sharp and pointy or is it just me?”

Neville opened his mouth to reply but Remus fixed the both of them with a _look_ and so they reluctantly fell silent.

Remus bowed lightly to the female Night Elf who had spoken.  “Thank you for having us.  Let’s not keep the High Priestess waiting, shall we?”

The leader nodded sharply and the rest of the contingent fluidly surrounded the trio as they began to make their way into Darnassus proper.  Despite the abruptness of their escort’s manners, the trio chose to simply look around and observe instead of attempting conversation.

The city itself was quite the sight to see. 

Much like Moonglade the structures were mostly wooden, though there was a fair bit of stonework- such as the large stonewrought ramp they were ascending that led to what was, presumably, the Temple of the Moon they had heard so much about.

Personally, Harry was still silently chuckling at Neville’s wide-eyed, adoring gaze towards the gigantic wooden bear structure that had been not far from the transporter.  They made a sharp turn just after the bear-structure, making their way up a gently curving swirled stone ramp towards what was obviously the Temple of the Moon, which had allowed them to note the overall architecture of their newest destination. 

_‘I know a memory I’m going to show Mia next time we see her~!’_   Harry chirped cheerfully inside his head, giving Neville a toothy, mischievous grin.  Neville tried to scowl at him in response, but the expression still held took much dopey awe to be anything other than utterly ineffective.

Night Elf structures were strange in that, while they held pillars, steps, and handrails the wood had obviously been manipulated by a druid or spell- as opposed to cut down and refitted together, as a normal building would have been.  The grain of the wood remained unbroken, no matter how high a structure seemed to stretch, though floors tended to be a darker tan than the rail or ramps.  The outside walls of the structures were rather universally plum, while the trim seemed to always be a blue of some shade.  The shingles of the pitched roofs were akin to neatly arranged pieces of bark, lending the buildings a quaint air, which fit gracefully with the overall theme of modesty and oneness with nature.

Squirrels chittered cheerfully, and all around them other small animals hopped, flew or swam about happily in the tranquil capital.  Amidst the unburdened animals, the Night Elf residents of Darnassus went about their business, seemingly entirely confident in the prowess of the regularly posted pairs of Sentinels. 

While their merry band of newcomers garnered more than a few side-glances; fortunately- for Harry’s nerves- most were curious as opposed to the barely-veiled hostility of their escorts and their kin.

Then they were through the wide, open archway and inside the inner sanctum of the Temple of the Moon.

_‘Well_.  _No turning back now.  Even if we’re not exactly welcomed guests here, and about two continents- and a sea, plus the Maelstrom- away from home.’_   Harry thought with a fair bit of apprehension as they made their way around the thriving greenery- there was a stone walkway that ran along the inner rim and led to the grandiose centerpiece of the Temple- and past a fair number of Priestesses.  The focal point of the room was an elaborate, sparkling water fountain with the ornate statue of a Priestess holding up an offering bowl of some sort.  

The Sentinels led the travelers up a curving incline that led to the upper level of the Temple- ‘ _I wonder if they dislike climbing stairs or if the lack of them is simply an aesthetic choice?_ ’ Harry mused idly to himself- but then the unease came rushing back when the Sentinels came to a stop.

Standing before a low bench was a Night Elf woman with rather pale purple skin, grass green markings and hair, and radiant eyes that Harry automatically mentally associated with moonlight.  As in, silver moonlight on Lake Elune’ara in Moonglade- silvery white and steady, no matter the whims of the wind.  She was wearing what reminded Harry of pictures of the Catholic Pope, though the High Priestess’ headgear was adored with gently glowing gems and seemed the woman herself seemed to _exude_ a sense of serenity.  Her dress was white- with a strange mass of gems and intricate metal from just below her bust to her waist- but as battle-ready as she seemed, Harry still felt rather at ease.

The night Elf man standing beside her was much less calm.  At least to Harry.  And Harry felt much less calm when looking at the Archdruid.

Taller than the woman by at least a full head, the glow of the man’s eyes was less ‘calming moonlight’ and more ‘eerie lamplight’.  Yellowish- like the summer crescent moon- the glow made the man’s glare sharper, somehow more menacing.  Harry wasn’t sure if the reddish tint to the man’s purple skin was due to age or perhaps sun exposure- did Night Elves tan?- but the red-shaded hues clashed with the man’s leaf-green hair and markings.  Coupled with the man’s rather intimidating height, fierce glare, and nearby staff, Harry suddenly felt trapped; cornered.

“We’ve brought the…guests, as ordered, High Priestess Whisperwind, Archdruid Staghelm.”  The lead Sentinel bit out in an eerily flat voice while the others fluidly moved into formation.

‘ _Blocking us in, with the two leaders between us and the door_.’  Harry noted absently, valiantly resisting the urge to shuffle nervously or glance to the side at Neville for reassurance.  ‘ _This is bloody fantastic_.’

In front of them, Remus inclined his head lightly- Harry and Neville following just a split-second later- and casually tucked his hands inside his generous sleeves, waiting patiently.

The answering silence was deafening.

Trying to ignore the steadily rising, silent battle of wills currently being waged between the two Night Elf leaders- they were now sharing furtive looks and small gestures- Harry focused on Remus’ back.

While Neville and Harry preferred more form fitting clothing- less cloth to get in the way and with magic it was rather simple to hide weaponry and such- Remus’ preferred clothing nowadays were thigh-length tunics with wide sleeves.  Like all the men he usually paired his top with trousers made from a blend of leather, cotton, spider silk, and other textiles Harry had never knew existed. 

Mendy- the defacto Head Tailor of Karazhan, with Winky’s blessing- usually liked to stitch fun little designs into the leggings that covered the magical alterations.  Everything from leaf patterns, to interconnected Celtic designs, to geometric repeating arrays- Mindy ensured that just about every pair of trousers in the Tower were unique.  Under the tunic- which Remus usually left open, like a Wizarding over-robe, were his undershirts.  Remus, for whatever reason, liked to wear anywhere from two to four of the blasted things- the weirdo.  The newest addition to all of their wardrobes, cinched by a very magically modified belt, was the Karazhan-Order of the Phoenix battle standard.

Well, Tirion called it a ‘tabard’- it was essentially a design that proclaimed one’s allegiance, sewn into a cloth that was draped over chest armor and easily spotted.  A tabard was sort of like a military uniform or one of the Hogwart’s Houses crests. 

Not long after Hearthglen had been reclaimed their stalwart Paladin friend had asked them to consider making a tabard as a way for people to recognize merchandise or other various things as being authentic Order goods.  While they were more than welcome to use the Argent Dawn’s strongholds to sell and trade, Tirion had cautioned them about unscrupulous folks who would use the Order’s good name to try and swindle people as word got around about their Order and their deeds or goods.

Then that very thing actually happened. 

Fortunately, Augusta and Hermione had been visiting Stormwind at the time and Ma Stonefield had sent word about the scam artists.   The incident had been summarily handled, but the lesson had been learnt.

As a result they had fully, officially, and publically adopted the moniker ‘The Order of the Phoenix’- mostly because of the visit from Lord Bronze Dragonguy as opposed to any real desire- and created a tabard.  They went with the ‘Phoenix’ name because they did not want to tempt the laws of probability and spread around the Tower’s actual name.  They usually just referred to Karazhan as ‘the Tower’ or ‘home’ as they were unsure of how all-encompassing the Wards were regarding written accounts of the Tower’s existence- especially in languages that were long dead to the mortal races.

_“Best not to tempt fate, really.  Especially with the likes of the Dragonflights and other long-lived or immortal races that inhabit Azeroth.”  Hermione said with a wry grin.  “And Fawkes was really an amazing sight, issues with his bonded human aside.”_

The Order of the Phoenix’s standard was relatively simplistic- a crimson border with a deep orange background and the bright white relief of soaring bird in flight- but now all their merchandise, correspondence, and other such things were clearly marked in the same manner.   For starters, the thread dyes of Azeroth were rather difficult to mix in the exact shades the Order chose- Edwin had given them a few tips there- so their choices to use two hard-to-recreate colors paired with a pristine white relief for the symbol was actually rather difficult to replicate without some fairly decent resources and tradeskills.  To further irritate would-be identity thieves, the individual waxes they chose to seal their missives each had their own scent, and only by using a properly enchanted seal would the scents blend and create their ‘unique’ fragrance marker.

All told, having an official sigil had opened many new avenues, as the vendors were much more confident when dealing with a known organization.  The Plague was an unwelcome, bitter memory for everyone in the Eastern Kingdoms, so being assured of where their supplies or food was coming from was a major relief to most people.

Harry was just glad that the elves, Hermione, Gran, Sirius, and Remus had handled most of it.  He and Neville had made _some_ helpful suggestions, but mostly they had just sat back and let the professionals work.

Remus also had a fair bit of- well, jewelry, Harry supposed.  They all did, actually.  Ear cuffs, earrings, bracelets, necklaces, and other decorative-seeming items adored all of them. 

Hermione and Flux- a Karazhan elf who had struck up friendships with most of the blacksmiths and armorers of Hearthglen- had spent a lot of time modifying heirlooms or creating entirely new pieces that were a blend of Azerothian and Earth magics.

Those little trinkets came in bloody handy, even if Harry had needed to go without them for most of his Hunter training.  Once Harry learned how to read the land he could use all of his gear, but until then his trainer had been adamant at learning ‘the hard way’.

Harry’s Hunter trainer had been a total hardass, but the grueling weeks of training with Master Hunter Kaerbrus had been worth the effort.

And here he was in Darnassus, possibly up for more training. 

_‘Ow_.’  Harry thought, his attention snapping back to the present as the Archdruid turned a strange shade of acid green, snapped something in- obviously clipped- Darnassian before stalking off, a few other druids melting out of the shadows to trot along in the man’s wake.

“Welcome to Darnassus.”  High Priestess Whisperwind said to Remus, inclining her head in a manner that was both slightly insulting and decently courteous. 

‘ _I know who I wanna be like when I grow up_.’  Harry thought rather dryly, less impressed than he would have been had he not spent the last two years with Augusta ‘I taught Minerva McGonagall that stern teacher glare of hers’ Longbottom.

“Thank you for having us, High Priestess Whisperwind.”  Remus replied with far more courtesy than Harry would have managed.   “Would you like for us to return at a more convenient time?”

“No.  I fear the Archdruid will only grow more discontent the longer we wait.”  She said, the lines around her glowing eyes tightening ever so slightly when she said ‘Archdruid’.

‘ _Somehow_.’  Harry thought rather amusedly, though he very carefully kept his face blank.  ‘ _I think she’d rather call him something rather less nice._ ’

Remus nodded and stepped back so he was in between Harry and Neville.  “To my right is Harry and to my left is Neville and I am Remus Lupin, of the Order of the Phoenix.  As discussed, Harry is here to learn more of the way of the Hunter- he also has a fair bit of interest in learning how to make the most of any animal that he takes down.” 

The weighty gaze of the High Priestess was very nearly a physical weight, but Harry managed to not embarrass himself by staggering under the unexpected weight.

Apparently she found whatever it was that she was looking for because she moved her gaze back to Remus.

_‘Remus is bloody amazing, being able to speak so easily with her glaring down at him like that.’_   Harry thought somewhat fuzzily as he struggled to regain his inner balance.

“-has been exchanging letters with a man by the name of, ah- Denalan.”  Remus was saying.  “And he has been offered lodging with, ah-“

“Druid Trainer Denatharion, High Priestess Whisperwind.”  Neville supplied easily, and Harry was damn proud how his brother’s voice was strong and steady even when her gaze moved from Remus to Neville.  “Of Dolanaar.”  Neville grinned sheepishly and twitched slightly- like he was going to rub his neck self-consciously and caught himself, resulting in a sort of weird shrug- and clasped his hands behind his back, tipping forward onto his toes slightly before once again going still.  “I’ve been informed of how…inclusive the-“  Neville caught himself and winced ever so slightly before hastily- and hopefully- altering his choice of words.  “- Kaldorei people tend to be and I am more than willing to submit myself to oversight in return for the chance to learn- even a little- of what Denalan or Denatharion are willing to teach me.”

High Priestess Whisperwind’s eyes seemed to soften slightly- though Harry couldn’t say if she’d actually done anything- and she nodded in approval.  “It is true that we, the kaldorei, are rightfully wary of outsiders.  However, given that you clearly understand and respect our need to protect ourselves- and our secrets- I believe that we will be able to work together while you are here- provided that you remain aware and honest.”

Neville nodded in acceptance and she turned back towards Remus.  “Yes, High Priestess?”

The woman seemed to struggle with something for a moment before she once again fell impassively serene.  “I wish to see these strange conjurations I’ve received word about before we part, and I am uncertain of how much time and preparation you require to produce them.”  She paused for a moment and glanced at each them before adding, not unkindly.  “The trip to Dolanaar is not long- perhaps four hours of walking- but the sun will be setting soon and it grows cool rather quickly during twilight.  Keeper Remulos informed me that there was a battle in Moonglade just before you left.  While you do not appear to be worse for the wear, I am unsure of what sort of lifestyle you are accustomed to.  As such I would like to extend you an invitation to stay in Darnassus for the night, if you would find that more to your liking?”

“We appreciate the offer, High Priestess.”  Remus replied warmly, though Harry was able to detect some righteous indignation.  “However, it will take us but a few moments to summon our- ah, conjurations.”  Remus slipped his hands out of his sleeves and held them loosely at his sides.  “The boys and I will need to draw our wands.  Rest assured-“  Remus hurried to assure the woman, whose face had instantly become suspicious.  “- we will not be using an arcane energy.  Our wands are rather…unique….in that they were forged much, much differently than arcane conduits.  They are merely…well, supports, you might say.  Otherwise, performing the spells would be…impractical.”

The High Priestess’ lips compressed together into an unhappy, grim line and she stared hard at Remus for a few long, silent, tense minutes before she nodded reluctantly.  “Very well.  Draw these....wands.”  She fairly spat the words and behind them, a few of the Sentinels hissed, not unlike a scalded cat.  “And direct them towards the right.  Then you may perform your spell.” 

_‘And putting our backs to the only exit.  With a full contingent of Sentinels and the High Priestess herself firmly behind us.”_   Harry thought uneasily, despite knowing full well that they were not going to do anything nefarious.

“One at a time, preferably.”  She tacked on after a heartbeat of expectant silence.

Remus nodded briskly and with the slightest twitch of his wrist, his faithful wand was in his grasp.  “ _Expecto Patronum!_ ”  He called out clearly, and for the briefest of moments nothing happened.

Save for the Sentinels shifting restlessly,  The High Priestess glaring holes in their backs, Remus’ head canting to the side in query, Neville clenching his fists in apprehension, and Harry feeling like he was simultaneously experiencing a heart attack and aneurism.

Then- behind them- the offering bowl held by the statue in the fountain erupted into a symphony of radiant moonlight-white and a form coalesced, bounding through the air and settling before the High Priestess like a long-lost companion.

“Tyrande.”  Omen’s powerful voice rumbled warmly to the awe-struck woman.  His glowing, vulpine features were achingly fond as he sat back on his haunches and leaned forward far enough to gently disturb the fluttery green bangs that framed the High Priestess’ eyes.  “My, how you’ve grown!  How many years has it been since I’ve looked upon you with my own eyes?

The High Priestess answered in rapid-fire Darnassian, but Remus nudged Harry and Harry complied.  “ _Expecto Patronum_!”

Harry’s now-familiar massive stag erupted from the offering bowl and joined Omen before the High Priestess.

More chattering in Darnassian.  Harry was certain there were tears as well, but he was being polite and not looking.

Then- of _bloody_ course- something unexpected happened.

Neville raised his wand and intoned the same spell. 

That part had been expected.  

Then-

A gigantic stag that stood as tall as Harry’s stag in body before seguing into a more humanoid form that was topped with leaves, horns, and what Harry was _certain_ were _tree branches_ erupted from the offering bowl and came to rest between the stag and Omen.

By now all the Sentinels were kneeling in deference and the High Priestess had collapsed onto the bench, chattering in rapid-fire Darnassian, while glowing tears tracked down her cheeks.

Remus’ exasperated cuff to the back of Harry’s head was uncalled for, in Harry’s humble opinion. 

He wasn’t being rude!  Her tears were honest-to-Merlin glowing!  How was he _not_ supposed to be distracted by that?!

“Let’s go sit just around the curve so they can have some privacy.  They’ll still be able to see us, so it should be alright.”  Remus murmured to him, snaking out a hand and gently tugging Harry along. 

When they were settled against the wall in semi-comfortable positions- Remus had pulled out some snacks and water- Harry turned to Neville and quirked an eyebrow.  “So?”

After nearly choking on a mouthful of trail mix- that was what Hermione called it anyways; Harry didn’t care what it was called, so long as it didn’t contain any bloody _raisins_ \- Neville gulped down a quick drink and grimaced.  “If I’m getting this right- your _Patronus_ is somehow a manifestation of Lord Malorne.”

“Elune’s lover?”  Remus clarified.

“Yeah.”  Neville nodded, scarfing down another mouthful of food before continuing.  “And the fox-dog guy is Omen, an Ancient who lived among the Night Elves on Mount Hyjal, back before the first Burning Legion invasion.  Legend says he was highly favored by Elune and Lord Malorne and bore Elune’s Blessing, though I’m not sure of all that entails.”

“First, we are spending way too much time talking to smart people.”  Harry joked, mouthing the word ‘entails’ before making a comically horrified face.  “Second- that’s when he became corrupted but couldn’t really die, right?  During the Burning Legion invasion.  Ended up under Lake Elune’ara until our buddy Moony here-“  Harry slung a friendly arm over Moony’s shoulders- not nearly as awkward as it had once been thanks to a recent growth spurt- but making the man splutter nonetheless.  “- somehow picked up the Blessing and released Omen?”  Harry ended in a questioning lilt.

“To the best of my knowledge, yes.”  Neville informed Harry with a conspiratorial grin.  “Only demon hounds are those two-headed things we fought back in Moonglade, so I’m guessing the fox-wolf-dog he appears to be now is his ‘true’ or ‘uncorrupted’ form.”

“Huh.”  Harry huffed incredulously, releasing Moony and going back to his snack.  “And your new ball of sunshine?”

Neville rolled his eyes.  _Expressively_.  “You’re _hilarious_.”

“I try.”  Harry chirped unrepentantly.

“Anyways.”  Neville, glancing up towards the ceiling as if begging for patience.  “I think my new _Patronus_ might actually be the Father of Druidism, Lord Cenarius.”

Harry choked on his sip of water and glared balefully at Neville’s smug grin after Remus helpfully pounded his back to help him clear his airways.  “You’ve got to be _bloody_ _kidding_ _me_.”

Of course, it was about that time Archdruid Staghelm- and friends- came bursting in and it all went to hell in a handbasket shortly thereafter.

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From her place high above Azeroth, Elune smiled.

Inside her sacred waters, Omen’s Blessing has been Gifted to another.  One, who just like her dear friend knows the pain of being a slave to madness inside one’s own mind, taking up the mantle that Omen had been struggling under for so very long.

Yet that is not her only joy this night.

Another dear friend- long lost to the depths of the Dream- has also found renewed hope.  A new Champion to forge; a man with the bravery of a hundred thousand souls exchanging his innocence for wisdom.   Willing to fight through Hopeless Despair itself for that which he loves, even after crippling loss, agonizing betrayal, and being forgotten by those he bled for.

And yet, even that glorious miracle is not the end of her joy this night.

Her stubborn son, who had been futilely struggling to free his favorite student for decades, had finally found a worthy successor.  Oh, Cenarius would never replace Malfurion in his heart- as far as her son was concerned, Malfurion was family, and that suited the goddess just fine- but Cenarius had moved past his stubborn pride and called for aid.

But even that was not the end of Elune’s visions.

No, her gaze was focused intently on the Ancient who had finally convinced Cenarius to put his faith in the young human in order to free Malfurion from the Dream’s Nightmare.

Never once, in all the history of Azeroth, far before even the Black Empire had existed, had this Being taken a Child as their own.  Tremendously powerful, nearly as ancient as Elune herself, and incredibly lonely throughout the eons, the Being was moved by the young man’s conviction; in his genuine joy for growing things.  Coupled with his refusal to become mired in prejudice and his open heart, Elune’s Old Friend was fascinated.

Though, to be fair, he was a truly fascinating youngling.  Before the Being’s interest, Elune had considered asking Cenarius to give the human a chance to learn her Ancient Ways, but this new development was even more wondrous to behold.

The Lady of Moonlight laughed exultantly, brilliant drops of happy tears fell from her radiant eyes and cheerfully disturbing her sacred waters as hope began to take root in Azeroth.

These new arrivals would not save the world on their own, of course.  But their deep love of their new home and their generous hearts touched Azeroth all the way to her slumbering Soul…..

_….and that made all the difference in the universe._

Elune gently breathed out across the surface of her sacred waters, causing them to fall tranquil once again, as she turned to return to her vital duties.

_‘Take heart, young ones, for your souls burn so very brilliantly.  And as long as you hold fast to the Light, I will do whatever I can to keep your lights shining as vividly as the stars.’_

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